


Are You Asking Me On a Date, Rose Tyler?

by micbb



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Flirting, Bakery and Coffee Shop, F/M, First Meetings, Torchwood One
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micbb/pseuds/micbb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha takes pity on her staff member, James, who has gained the affections of a very persistent french blonde, and enlists an old friend to save him from his suitor's clutches. </p><p>'There's a great chippy just two roads over,' she told him, 'and I am supposed to be taking you to lunch…' </p><p>'Are you asking me on a date, Rose Tyler?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lunch Date

**Author's Note:**

> All human! James takes a liking to Rose, his pretend girlfriend.

"Bonjour, James," a familiar voice purred from behind him as John Smith wiped down a table in TARDIS café.

He sighed before putting a smile on his face and turning to face the woman. "Good morning, Reinette," he said politely. Reinette had been a regular at the coffee shop for the past two months, and made a show of flirting with him regardless of whether he went along with it or not. She'd gotten more persistent over the past few weeks, but John didn't know how to let her off without sounding like a complete prick, so he plastered a fake grin on his face and hoped she'd eventually get bored and move on.

That didn't seem to be the case.

Reinette reached forward and fiddled with his tie, making him particularly uncomfortable. "Will you make my coffee for me, mon chère?" She smiled flirtatiously and batted her eyes at him.

He took a step back from her, only to have her tighten her grip on his tie.  _Ah_. How was he supposed to get out of this without driving off one of their best customers? "Sorry, Reinette, I've got to finish cleaning the tables. Donna will make your coffee." He told her, tugging on his ear.

She pouted and titled her head to the side. "But she doesn't make it quite like you do," she whined, stepping forward again until she was very much occupying James's personal space. He shrugged, and she sighed dramatically. "Perhaps after you're finished working, you could come by my place and made me a coffee?" She suggested boldly, pulling his tie out from under his suit jacket and tugging him closer to her, looking at him through her eyelashes.

"James," Martha's voice made him jump, and he turned his head to see his manager poking her head out of the staff room and looking at him with raised eyebrows. He gently put his hands on Reinette's shoulders and pushed her away, earning another flirtatious pout.

"Yes?" He flinched at how his voice squeaked.

Martha's lips pressed together as she fought a laugh. "I just got off the phone with your  _girlfriend_ ," she told him. Girlfriend? He didn't have a girlfriend. "She wanted to know when you finished today. She's taking you to lunch. You don't mind that I told her, do you?" Her eyes flicked over to Reinette, who, while having given him some space, was still hanging on to his tie.

_Oh._ This was Martha saving him from his too-persistent female suitor. Gratefulness bubbled in his throat. "Of course. Thanks, Martha." He said with a smile. She grinned back and ducked back into the staff room, closing the door gently behind her.

He turned his attention back to Reinette, who was now looking rather put out and  _still_  pouting at him. For Pete's sake, was she five years old? "You never told me you had a girlfriend," she told him pitifully, her lower lip sticking out slightly.

He blinked. "Didn't I? I must have."

She released his tie, but continued to follow him like a lost puppy as he moved to clean the tables. "How long have you had this girlfriend?" She asked him.

"Three months," he answered, feeling distinctly uneasy.

"Three months and you hadn't told me?" She asked in surprise, and he hoped she wasn't seeing through his rather transparent lie.

"We've only just worked out the details," he continued to lie, knowing he was digging himself into a rut he probably wouldn't be able to get out of.

"I see," Reinette replied drily from behind him. "Perhaps I will stay until your break so I can meet the mysterious woman." With that, she marched away from him, heaving over to order her coffee.

He let out a breath of relief, glad to have her out of his hair, and finished wiping down the tables before quickly sliding into the staff room, where Martha was sitting at their shared computer desk, doing some paper work. "Girlfriend?" He asked after firmly closing the door behind him.

Martha looked up from her work and smirked at him, taking in his dishevelled appearance. He quickly went to work fixing his tie. "Well, hello, lover-boy." She teased, laughing when he glared at her. "Relax, James. It got her off your back, didn't it?"

"Yes," he huffed, "but now she wants to hang around and meet the girlfriend." He told her with another glare, shaking his head when Martha laughed again.

"God, she's determined, isn't she?" His manager chuckled. "But I thought she might, so I rang up a friend of mine. She'll be here at the end of your shift."

He grimaced. "Did you tell her she might have to deal with Reinette?"

She grinned at him. "Yep."

His eyebrows shot up. "Who'd be willing to deal with  _that_?" He demanded.

Martha laughed again, and he let out an annoyed sighed. "Count yourself lucky she owes me a big favour."

"Must be quite the favour," he remarked. "What's her name?"

"Rose."

* * *

_Two hours later_

"Hi," a light voice made Donna look up from where she was placing napkins into take-out bags, and she looked up to see a young blonde standing unsurely at the register.

"Morning," Donna greeted with a smile that made her cheeks ache. She was tired of smiling. "What can I get for you?"

"I'm – um – actually looking for someone? James." The blonde replied, a slightly unsure look in her eyes. Donna took her in carefully, wondering if James had ever mentioned having a sister or a girlfriend. She was dressed in an expensive looking black pea coat which was cinched tightly around a small waist, and a light-looking pink scarf was tied peeking out from the collar of the coat. The clothes looked far too expensive for her to be related to James, who seemed to always where a tight suit, whether in pinstriped brown or dark blue. Donna glanced over the woman's shoulder to see Reinette staring at her intently.

"Hm," Donna huffed, putting down the napkin she'd been about to place in a take-away bag. "Just a minute." She stepped away from the cash and went to the staffroom.

James and Martha were both bent over a piece of paper, discussing something quietly, and they looked up when she stepped in. "What's up, Donna?" Martha asked, frowning at the woman who was supposed to be working the shop.

"There's a girl here asking for James," Donna replied, seeing how James and Martha exchanged a look.

"Blonde girl?" Martha checked.

"Yeah," Donna nodded. "Dunno what she sees in you," she sniffed, looking James over, "you're just a skinny boy in a suit."

Martha laughed. "That's Rose. Good luck, James," she nudged him with her shoulder. He straightened up and grabbed his coat, a long brown trench coat, checking his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and keys before leaving the staffroom with a quick wave to Martha, who waved back, a smirk on her lips. As soon as he stepped into the sitting area of the coffee shop, he saw Reinette's ornately pinned hair as the woman spoke to another girl, a blonde in a black coat holding a brown paper bag.

As he stepped closer, he could hear Reinette's voice, "– long have you two been together?" She was asking, a barely-hidden sneer in her tone.

The blonde's eyes flicked to him briefly and he mouthed  _three months_ , hoping she would be able to read his lips. The corners of her lips quirked into a small smile and she looked back at Reinette, a smile on her face. "Three months," she replied easily.

"He hasn't said anything about you," Reinette told her bluntly, making James flinch. There was no way he'd be able to explain everything in the same way he'd dealt with the last question.

But the blonde – Rose – obviously didn't need his help. She shrugged. "We only really made it official a couple weeks ago," she replied airily.

"Rose," James jumped in before the conversation could go any further, stepping around Reinette and smiling somewhat unsurely at his blonde not-quite girlfriend, knowing Reinette was watching the two of them intently.

Rose looked up at him a grinned, a knowing glint in her warm hazel eyes. She placed her gloved hand lightly on his shoulder and used it as support as she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed James lightly on the cheek. "Hi, James," she greeted him, her tongue poking out from under her canine as she smiled at him. "I hope you don't mind I called Martha."

"Of course not," he replied, his skin tingling where her lips had touched it. "I'm always happy to see you," he delighted when her smile widened, and he reached and took her other hand in his, the leather of her gloves obviously well broken in as he easily intertwined their fingers. He looked up and smiled politely at Reinette. "Have a good day, Reinette," he said with a quick wave before tugging on Rose's hand and leading her out of the shop.

As soon as they were out of the coffee shop he let out a relieved huff of air, and Rose looked up at him, wide smile on her lips and her eyes shining with mirth. "Thank you for that," he said vehemently.

"No problem," she replied. He began to pull his hand from hers, but she tightened her grip, and he looked at her in question. "We're still in view from the shop," she explained, and he turned back to see that they were, in fact, and that Reinette's eyes had followed them out.

He ran his hand through his hair and squeezed her hand in thanks, and she smiled up at him. Now that he didn't really have to act like he knew her already, he took finally took her in. Her hair had obviously been dyed, seeing as it didn't match her eyebrows, but he almost couldn't tell, suggesting it had been done at a high-end salon. She was wearing minimal makeup – just mascara, as far as he could see, a light pink scarf around her neck that seemed to be more for fashion than for warmth, and a black pea coat. She was quite pretty with her warm eyes and easy smile. "Sorry about this, Rose," he said sheepishly, "I hope Martha didn't interrupt anything important."

She smiled and shook her head. "Nothing important, nope," she teased. "I make my own hours, so it's fine."

"That sounds nice," he said wistfully, "what do you do?"

"I work for a private security company," she said. "Not very exciting, I assure you." He grinned down at her, and she winked, making him laugh.

"Not far, I hope?" He continued.

She shook her head again. "Not at all. I even left my car over there. I'll walk back later."

"Oh." He said simply, and they walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke up again. "So what did you do to Martha to get stuck owing her a favour?"

She burst out laughing, eventually making him stop while she clutched her stomach. When it finally let up, she was wiping tears from her eyes. "She didn't tell you?" She said between chuckles.

"No," he answered, bewildered, "now I'm afraid of what I'm going to hear."

She pressed her lips together. "I shouldn't tell you anyway," she said.

"Oh, come on!" He whined, and she kept her lips tightly pressed together, her face contorting as she struggled not to laugh again. "Really?" He pressed, and she shook her head, making him groan dramatically.

"All that matters is that it was it big enough for her to call me up on a Saturday morning and tell me that I needed to pick up a bloke at the shop who couldn't get a certain woman to leave him alone," She teased, earning a sheepish smile from him.

"Reinette was holding my tie when Martha called you, did she tell you that?" He said amicably.

Rose gasped. "What? No way. How do you mean?"

He frowned as he thought of how to explain it, and his eyes fell on her scarf. His feet stopped, and, as their hands were still connect, Rose was brought to a sudden stop as well, making her stubble. He reached forward and gently untucked her scarf from under her jacket and, when it was completely free, he pulled it until his face was only a few inches from hers. Her eyes widened and he thought he heard her breath hitch in her throat, and when she met his gaze he saw that her pupils had dilated and her cheeks were tinging pink. Her eyes flitted down to his lips for a moment, and her teeth unconsciously sunk into her own bottom lip, making his heart speed up at the sight. His head tilted downwards without his permission, and her eyes widened further. She stepped away from him, only a step, but it was enough to shock him back into the present.

Rose coughed slightly. "I can – um – I can see why that would make someone uncomfortable," the words tumbled from her mouth without any grace or forethought.

He was happy that she still hadn't let go of his hand, and he wondered idly if she was even aware that she was. Their hands hand been swinging idly between them as they'd walked. "Yeah," he muttered, more to himself than to her. It hadn't escaped his own notice that where with Reinette barely two inches away from him, all he'd been able to think about was how to extricate himself from the situation, where with Rose he'd felt like he'd be content to stay in her space as long as she would allow him.

They walked in silence as minutes continued to tick by, each lost in their own thoughts, and he jumped when Rose broke the silence.

"Do you like chips?"

He looked down at her face to see her looking up intently at him. "What?" He said dumbly.

Her lips pulled into a smile. "Chips, James. Do you like chips?"

"Of course I like chips," he replied with a smirk, "everybody likes chips, Rose."

"There's a great chippy just two roads over," she told him, "and I am supposed to be taking you to lunch…"

His face broke into an cheeky grin. "Are you asking me on a date, Rose – " he frowned and looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows at him, sensing that the phrase wasn't finished. "I just realize I don't even know your last name."

She smiled again. "It's Tyler."

"Rose Tyler," he tested the name. It rolled off his tongue easily and he found he quite liked how it sounded. "That's a brilliant name. Rose Tyler." Her cheeks began to redden again, and he decided he quite liked that, too. "Are you asking me on a date, Rose Tyler?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him and looked him over. "Is chips a date?" she inquired, her tone serious but her eyes sparkling mischievously.

He mulled it over for far longer than he honestly needed to. "I think," he began dramatically, as he met her eyes, which, though warm with amusement, also held the slightest bit of uncertainty, "I think in this case, chips could easily be construed as a date."

She met his eyes for a few more seconds before shaking her head, a slightly annoyed smile on her face. "You avoided the question, James," she sighed, as dramatic as he had been. She slipped her hand out of his and into her jacket pocket. At his dejected expression, Rose chuckled. "She can't see us anymore." She told him playfully, butting her upper arm with her shoulder.

He shot her a pouting look that he knew was childish, but he didn't mind because she took one look at him and laughed at his audacity, which then made him grin goofily again. "I think, Rose Tyler," he didn't miss the slight shiver that passed through her when he said her name, and knowing that response made his pulse quicken again, "that going out for chips  _is_  a date,  _and_ ," he reached into the pocket she'd just tucked her own hand into and wound their fingers together again before pulling both their hands out, "that I will hold your hand while we walk to our date." He was shocked at his own audacity, but she didn't pull away, so he kept his grip on her hand and let their joined hands hang between them.

She looked down at their intertwined fingers for several moments before looking at up at his face and meeting his gaze, seeing the barely contained hope on his features. "Then, I suppose, James…" she looked intently at him, waiting for him to fill the gap.

He grinned. "McCrimmon."

She nodded. "Then, I suppose, James McCrimmon, that I am asking you on a date."

* * *

"Do you really need that much vinegar?" James asked, wrinkling his nose in displeasure as he watched Rose pour an obscene amount of vinegar onto her basket of chips.

Rose finished pouring then placed the bottle back onto the table, it's supply severely depleted now that Rose Tyler had gotten a hold of it. "Old habits, I suppose. That's how my mum used to eat them, so that's how she'd give them to me. Now can't eat them without it." She popped a chip into her mouth and smiled at she chewed. He shook his head and ate one of his own chips, which had not been doused in vinegar.

"Ever think about travelling?" He asked once he'd swallowed his chip, looking at her intently.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, confused at the rapid change in topics. "What?"

"Travelling," he pressed, smiling at lost look. "I've always wanted to travel, but I've had the time."

Rose absent-mindedly wrapped her lips around the tip of her thumb, sucking off any of the remaining vinegar from her skin and not noticing how James's breath hitched when he saw. "I've done quite a bit of travelling, actually." She told him with a smile.

"Really?" he leaned forward in his seat and regarded her with delight. "Where?"

She popped another chip into her mouth before speaking, her eyebrows pulling into a thoughtful frown as she struggled to recall everywhere she'd been. "Cardiff, obviously. Also sort of in the high lands of Scotland, visiting this beautiful old estate. Um, also France, Utah, Florida, New York, Turkmenistan…" eyes lifted to the ceiling as she continued to list her travels, and she missed how the Doctor's eyebrows rose as the list seemed to go on and on. "I also have a friend in Canada that I see every few years, his name's Tim. He's a nice bloke. Where else? I think," she frowned, "that's it. I think."

"That's quite the list," James told her truthfully. "Who goes to Turkmenistan? Where even  _is_  Turkmenistan?"

Rose met his curious brown gaze, smiling widely. "Turkmenistan in the middle of a circle of more known middle eastern countries. It's surrounded by Iran to the southwest, Afghanistan to the southeast, Uzbekistan to the northeast, and the Caspian Sea at northwest. I was visiting the Darvaza Gas Crater."

"Darvaza Gas Crater?" James repeated, intrigued.

"It's also called the Gate to Hell," Rose told him ominously, a teasing twinkle in he eyes. "It's amazing. It's about 225 feet wide and 99 feet deep, and it just  _burns_. All the time. About forty years ago some scientists set it on fire when it collapsed to get rid of noxious gases, and it just kept burning." Her eyes were wide and distant, as though she was no longer sitting across from him. "The way it continues to burn all the time really makes you think that if you stepped in there you might come across Satan." A shiver ran through her spine and she let out a huff of air before turning her warm eyes back on him. "Anyway, all that to say I've had the chance to travel a bit."

"A bit," James scoffed good-naturedly. "Is there any place you haven't been that you've always wanted to go?"

She frowned for a moment thinking about his question, and only a few seconds later a thought popped into her head and she looked at the Doctor with a wide smile and shining eyes. "Barcelona."

James raised an eyebrow. "You've been to Turkmenistan but not to Barcelona?"

Rose shrugged. "Barcelona doesn't have a pit of fire." She said simply, as though it were the simplest answer and really, he should have thought of that. He grinned before sneakily reaching over and stealing one of her chips. "Hey!" She called, affronted, as he smirked before putting the chip in his mouth. He grimaced as soon as the thing hit his tongue, the sharp tang of the vinegar burning his cheeks.

"Honestly, Rose. The vinegar? You're insane."

She shot him a glare. "If you don't like them, then eat your own!" She pushed his basket of chips closer to him and pulled her own closer to herself. "So where would you like to go?" She continued their previous conversation. "If you could go anywhere, where would you go?"

"Well, now," James drawled, making Rose's lips quirk into a smile. "What do you mean by  _anywhere?_ " He asked her.

Rose's eyebrows lifted. "What do  _you_  mean by 'anywhere'?" She repeated his question back at him, suddenly feeling like she'd completely lost track of the conversation.

James leaned forward on the table, and she mimicked his move, pushing her half-empty basket of chips out of the way so that she could meet him half way. In their mirrored positions, James's and Rose's faces were no more than four inches apart, and Rose didn't miss how James's eyes flicked briefly down to her lips before meeting her own hazel gaze. "What if anywhere actually did mean  _anywhere_ ," James said quietly, barely hidden excitement on the features Rose found herself admiring – the fullness of his lower lip, the warmth of his molten chocolate eyes, and  _god_ , those freckles! How had she not noticed before?

He continued to tell her about how he envisioned time travel, and she found herself as the assistant, being dragged (or sometimes doing the dragging) into impossibly dangerous situations. He told her about his imagined travel machine – an old blue police public call box – that was bigger on the inside. It was disguise, he explained enthusiastically. The ship could disguise herself to fit in with any environment they found themselves in on their wild intergalactic adventure. When she pointed out that if they landed at any other time, the box would stick out with a sore thumb, but James disagreed vehemently and told her about perception filters and the idiocy of the human race. The chameleon circuit was stuck, he admitted sheepishly, but he'd grown rather fond of the blue box and had decided not to bother with fixing the circuit.

She'd shrugged and laughed, completely absorbed in this imaginative man's world where they were the Doctor and Rose Tyler, the Stuff of Legends.

Well, if he got a code name, she argued, she should get one too. He'd disagreed. Rose Tyler was a brilliant name, he told her seriously. No one went around saving the universe with a name like James McCrimmon, but if Rose Tyler was defending the galaxy, he was certain her name would inspire confidence. He, at least, would feel very safe.

She shook her head at his absurd man and laughed along with him as he recounted tales of their travels. She jumped in at just the right moments, chipping in with witty remarks and snarky quips, making James –  _The Doctor_ , he insisted – laugh.

Neither noticed that they'd long since intertwined their fingers across the table.

 


	2. Banana Bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose stops by, James can't be rude, and Reinette can't take a hint.

"Morning, James," Martha smiled at him when he came into work the next day. She followed him into the staff room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it with her arms crossed, smiling at him while he shrugged out of his coat and tied on his apron.

"Hello, Martha," James smiled her somewhat uneasily, wondering why on she kept looking at him like that.

She pressed her lips together as her smile widened. "I spoke to Rose last night." She told him matter-of-factly.

James ignored the way his lips pulled into an involuntary smile at the mere mention of her name, but he could tell by the look on Martha's face that she hadn't missed smile. "Did you?" He asked lightly.

Martha _hmm_ 'd in assent and moved away from the door, going directly to their staff table and sitting down lightly, still looking at him with that weird look on her face. Neither spoke for several moments, and it was Martha, once again, who broke the silence. "I heard you had a good time on your pretend date." She said casually.

He whirled around on the spot to look at her. " _Pretend?_ " He sputtered, his eyes wide and his hair still wild from the wind outside. "She said _pretend_ date?"

Martha laughed at his panicked expression. "No, she didn't." She told him between chuckles, ignoring his answering glare. "But good to know that's your response to me even suggesting you might not have gone on a real date."

He ran his hand through his hair self-consciously. "It wasn't going to be, but…" He trailed off, shooting Martha a desperate look.

"Right," Martha said with a wide grin. "So you'll be going out again?"

James's eyebrows pulled into a frown at the sudden change in her voice, and he searched her expression to see some trepidation there. "I hope so." He said carefully. "Why?"

Martha smoothed her hair, a nervous tick of hers he'd noticed some time ago. "It's just…" she hesitated, pressing her lips together. "Look, James," she said with a sigh. "You're a great person, from what I've seen, but Rose is really important to me. I know it's a bit early to be having this talk, but if you're planning on seeing her again, I just need you to know that if you hurt her, I can make your life really difficult."

James blinked a few times, looking at her unsurely, wondering whether or not she was being serious. "Bit early on to be threatening me, don't you think?" he asked, his voice coming out in an undignified squeak.

Martha shrugged. "I just want both of us to be on the same page." She told him simply, standing from her seat and moving to the door. She placed her hand and opened it, only to stop before exiting the staff room and looking at James with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Plus, this was just the preliminary warning. If you do end up dating, you get Mickey's threatening chat. And he's known Rose longer than I have." With that she closed the door behind her, chuckling to herself as James watched her leave with wide eyes.

James carefully ran his fingers through his hair one final time, Martha's words running on a loop through his mind. What was it about Rose that inspired so much loyalty? Martha was the one who had introduced them, for Pete's sake! She must have assumed they would go their separate ways as soon as they were out of sight, he mused, but still, she'd set them up for their fake date. There had always been a chance that they would get along, and, now that he'd met Rose, he wondered how Martha hadn't already guessed that they would get along, considering their similar humours.

And where did Mickey come into this? James knew that Mickey was Martha's long-time boyfriend, and had met the man a few times himself when they'd gone out to pubs after work. Mickey had never mentioned Rose, as far as he could remember.

Still confused, James made sure his apron was well fastened before leaving the staff room and getting to work, a fake smile on his face. He ignored the fact that Martha was watching him carefully most of the day.

* * *

"Afternoon," a light, teasing voice greeted from behind him.

James whirled around in surprise – he hadn't heard anyone sneak up on him – and found himself face to face with Rose, who was smiling widely at him. Her hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail today, showing the tips of her ears, which were tinged red from the brisk breeze. She was wearing a different jacket that she had been yesterday, and he found he quite liked the fitted black leather that wrapped itself rather snuggly around her torso. The pink scarf was still there, and he felt his cheeks flush at the memory of tugging her close to him with that very piece of fabric. She was still wearing her worn leather gloves, and she was gripping a brown paper bag loosely in her fingers.

"Rose!" He said delightedly, a real smile on his lips for the first time that day. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "Martha told me what time your _admirer_ usually comes," she told him with a wink, "and I thought, 'hey, I'm his girlfriend, so I should already be there when she gets here and tries to convince him to leave me for her'." She informed him cheekily, making him chuckle. "And, I told you, my work is close by, so I decided to walk over while I'm on my lunch break. So here I am."

"Here you are," James repeated happily, leaning forward to press an impulsive kiss to her forehead. When he pulled away, he saw that her cheeks were significantly more pink than they had been before, and was suddenly worried about his brash actions. She wasn't _really_ his girlfriend, after all. But instead of telling him off or stepping away from him, Rose simply smiled sweetly at him, and he felt a rush of affection for this girl he'd just met.

"Oh!" Rose said suddenly, jumping. She held out the paper bag to him just as he saw Reinette enter the coffee shop. "Brought you a present," she told him, the tip of her tongue poking out from under her canine. His eyes zeroed in on the pink before he met her eyes again and smiled, taking the offered bag and knowing Reinette was watching their interactions closely.

"You did?" He blinked, real surprise in his voice as he unfolded the bag and peered in it. "What is it?"

"Banana bread."

His eyes widened and his eyes snapped to her face, where he saw a teasing smile and warm eyes. "Really?"

"Really," she laughed. "I hear bananas are good."

He stared at her for a moment. He'd mentioned his love of bananas to her yesterday, and she'd laughed and squeezed his hand and told him she'd remember that, but he hadn't expected her to _do_ anything about it! Especially when she barely knew him. He watched Rose's expression falter as he continued to look at her, and, realizing she was worried about his reaction, he grinned widely at her, seeing her own smile widen as he did so.

"Yeah, they are." He told her happily. "Thanks, sweetheart." He slung his arm over her shoulders and squeezed, pressing a kiss to her temple and feeling the burn of Reinette's glare. "I'm really sorry about this," he whispered sheepishly, his lips still touching her skin.

She laughed good-naturedly, "Of course." She replied to both comments, looking at him with a smile on her lips and mischief in her eyes. She patted his cheek, laughing at his whine of protest.

Reinette made her way over and smiled coldly at Rose before greeting James with significantly too much familiarity in her voice. Rose didn't falter, however, and greeted Reinette enthusiastically. Then she frowned, eyeing her taller rival strangely. "Reinette, did you switch shampoos?" She asked innocently, peering at the other girl's hair.

Reinette scowled. "Of course not," she sniffed arrogantly. "I use only the best. Why would I change?"

Rose shrugged, the picture of innocence. "Sorry," she said with false sweetness, "it's just that your hair is doing something…different today, and I couldn't quite place it. I was going to suggest you go back to whatever you were using before, but I suppose I was mistaken. I hope you can fix it."

James valiantly fought the laughter that was pushing its way up his throat as Rose made her backhanded comments.

Reinette pressed her lips together. "You're obviously mistaken."

"Sorry about that," Rose said profusely, then she looked up at James, who was already looking down at her with something like admiration on his face. "Sweetheart, maybe we could chat in the staff room for a few minutes? Martha will let you take your break, won't she?"

"Of course," James replied, placing another kiss to her temple and enjoying the flush in her cheeks and how she bit her lip when she smiled. "Coffee?"

"Oh, please," Rose replied with a deeply grateful tone. "You know what I like. I'll meet you in the staff room?"

James nodded, an affectionate smile on his lips and his eyes shining with warmth, and Rose stepped away from him, taking the bagged-bread with her, giving Reinette a wide smile and a small finger-wave before ducking out of the room. Before Reinette could say anything, James moved towards the counter, getting started on a coffee for Rose. He didn't, in fact know what she liked, giving him a free reign that was as exciting as it was terrifying – what if he made something she really didn't like?

Trying not to fuss too much – he didn't want Reinette to get any ideas – he got to work on a sweet caramel drink that was decently popular, paying attention only to the drink and not to the blonde who had followed him to the counter.

"Perhaps while you are back there you could make my coffee as well, James?" Reinette suggested, a falsely sweet but alluring smile on her lips.

"Sorry, Reinette," James said with a quick smile, "but my break isn't very long, and Rose is waiting. I'm sure Martha would be more than happy to make whatever drink you order." He finished off a caramel drizzle and waved to Martha, who was standing at the cash register with an amused look on her face. She nodded to him and he quickly went to the staff room door, giving Reinette a small wave before shutting the door behind him and letting out a deep sigh.

Rose was sitting at the small, communal table, watching him with humour in her eyes. She'd shrugged out of her coat, which was on the back on her seat, and he could see the simple but elegant white blouse she was wearing. She smiled widely at him when he closed the door, and he returned her smile with a slightly tired one of his own. He carefully placed the steaming mug down on the table before all but collapsing into his seat.

That woman would be the death of him, he thought to himself. How was he supposed to get rid of a woman who wouldn't back off, even if he had a girlfriend?

"Is that for me?" Rose's voice pulled him from his reverie, and he looked up to see her eyeing the warm drink on the table with a particular smile – one he thought might be just for him – with her tongue poking out from under her canine tooth. He took a moment to appreciate the tantalizing bit of pink before pushing the mug in her direction. She picked it up and took a sip.

Her quiet moan of appreciation resulted in his entire face becoming beet-red, but she was kind enough not to say anything, though he thought he might have seen her push back a smile.

"That's gorgeous," she told him warmly, "thank you, James."

He smiled at her. "Least I could do, considering you're helping me fend off that woman," he said teasingly.

"Hmm," She took another sip of the coffee. "Seems to me, I'm doing most of the fighting," she observed shrewdly.

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

She set the coffee down carefully, a delicate frown on her face. "It's just…have you even _told_ her you're not interested?"

"Of course I have."

"No, I mean, those words. I know it sounds ridiculous," she told him honestly, "but some women – some _people_ – need to actually hear the words before they realize. I'm sure you've tried to subtly send her on her way, and I'm a last resort, but I always feel like people don't actually just try telling the brutally honest truth."

He regarded her seriously for a moment. Had he told Reinette the truth? He'd certainly tried to _show_ his disinterest by keeping distance between them, and he'd corrected or turned down her assumptions and lewd invitations.

At his look, she nodded sheepishly. "I thought as much."

He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tick he couldn't seem to be rid of, "you think I should just tell her up front?" He asked, watching her with wide eyes.

She barked out a laugh. "Yes."

"I don't want to hurt her feelings."

Rose looked at him for a moment in wide-eyed surprise before bursting out into laughter. James ignoring the reddening in his cheeks as she continued to laugh and wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said when she'd caught her breath, a wide smile on her lips and the occasional chuckle slipping through. "That's sweet, it really is, but James, you've resorted to pretending to date someone you don't even know because she won't take the hint." She smiled affectionately at him and reached across the table to gently take his hand. "I think it's time to be a little rude. Be _honest_ , for Pete's sake."

"Being rude goes again what my mum taught me, Rose." He told her honestly, a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure your mother would realize that it's time to be rude, now, James," she told him mock-seriously. Hesitantly, she reached up and gently ran her fingers through his hair, and the sensation seemed to tingle from his scalp down to his toes. "Rude and not ginger," she commented idly.

"Rude and not ginger?" He repeated somewhat dumbly, resisting the urge to moan as her fingers softly mused his hair. She _hmmed_ in assent. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Are you ginger?"

"No."

She smiled. "There you go, then." She glanced at the silver watch on her wrist, and the smile disappeared. "Time's up, I'm afraid," she told him, and he hoped he wasn't imagining the disappointment he heard in her voice.

With a sigh, he rose, offering her his hand. She took it with a smile and kept a hold of it as they left the room, letting go only to shrug her jacket back on and fix her scarf. Reinette was still in the coffee shop, sitting in one of the plush couches. He walked Rose to the door and looked at her ruefully. She was smiling up at him already, and briefly her tongue poked out again.

_Oh,_ that wasn't helping things. It _really_ wasn't helping things at all. Her eyes were warm honey and her smile was pink softness that he was desperate to feel on his own lips instead of his cheek, but he wouldn't kiss her here, not now. He wouldn't kiss her to prove a point to Reinette.

When he kissed Rose Tyler's lips, it would be for her and her alone.

So, with a sigh, he lightly pressed his kiss to her forehead and she squeezed his hand. They stayed that way for a few moments, until a lightly chuckle escaped her. "I have to go," she told him quietly.

He made a whining noise in protest and she shook her head at his foolishness, standing on her tiptoes before to lightly kiss his cheek, as she'd done before. She gave his hand a final squeeze before stepping away from him, waving quickly to Martha, who waved back with a cheerful smile, and stepped out of the shop.

As soon as she was gone, Reinette was at his side, watching Rose as she tucked her hands into her pockets and made her way down the street before looking at James with something like distain on her otherwise beautiful face. "I don't see her for the two months I'm here and now twice in two days?" She told him, arching one eyebrow. "It seems almost as though you planned it that way, mon chère."

James rolled his eyes, ignoring the warmth he could still feel in his stomach from Rose's visit and the tingling sensation on his cheek where her lips had touched it. "I'm not 'your chère', Reinette, and I didn't ask Rose to come. She came because she wanted to." The words, which he hoped were true but couldn't be certain Martha hadn't asked Rose to come today, made an involuntary smile appear on his lips. He very much Rose to drop by his work just because she wanted to, not because Martha had asked her.

Reinette sniffed. "Well, I thought you had better taste than some nobody," she told him, the tone in her voice suggesting she was disappointed in him.

"Rose is _not_ a nobody." James snapped, barely containing his anger as he glared at her.

"No?" Reinette replied daintily, her perfectly plucked arching delicately. "I am a descendant of Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson. My family is a patron to at least four up and coming artists and my father _ministre d'état_ for the French government. Tell me, mon chère, does your Rose even compare to me?" She smirked confidently at James, whose anger had swelled through his core and into his throat. He was certain his eyes were burning with anger, and he felt of twinge of satisfaction when she had the sense to take a step away from him, though she still had an overconfident smirk on her lips.

"Rose is honest and beautiful and doesn't need titles to make her feel important," James snarled, Rose's words about being honest forefront in his mind, though he was fairly certain she hadn't meant for him to attack Reinette so viciously. "She's honest and sweet, and she _cares_ , which is more than I can say about you. She draws people in instead of alienating anyone who doesn't have a fancy title. It's not that she doesn't compare to you, Reinette, it's that you don't compare to _her_."

Reinette's mouth popped open as she regarded him with wide eyes, wounded expression on her face.

"She's also the heiress to the Vitex fortune, and on the board of directors of the Torchwood Institute." Martha's soft voice got both of their attention. She was leaning on her forearms on the counter of the shop, watching the two with a serious expression on her face. "Not that it makes a difference."

James's gaze flicked over to Martha, who didn't appear to be joking, then back to Reinette, who now looked mildly scandalized as well as hurt. He sighed. "Look, Reinette, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be cruel. But it's not the titles that make Rose who she is. It isn't her title or her position or her money that I'm attracted to, it's _her_. She catches my attention and interests me and I want to know everything about her." He said honestly, knowing Martha was listening as attentively as Reinette. "And, I'm sorry, but Reinette, I'm not interested in you."

Reinette seemed to search his face for any hint of dishonesty or doubt before sighing. "Well, that's that, I suppose." She said, looking at James with a dejected expression. "You're certain?"

"I am." _Rude and not ginger_ , he told himself.

Reinette nodded and stepped out the door, letting it swing shut behind her. James turned to find himself face to face with Martha, who was scrutinizing him intently.

"Are you telling me that in two months' time you didn't think to just tell her you weren't interested?" Martha demanded, a small smirk on her lips. James shrugged, and Martha shook her head in mock disappointment. "Wow. You are terrible with women," she ignored James's indignant _hey_! "Should I just tell Rose she doesn't need to pop by anymore? Problem solved?"

Martha's mustn't've missed the alarm that flashed in his eyes. "No," James told her quickly. "No, I'll talk to Rose."


	3. No Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose faces challenges at work and turns to James.

Rose didn't come in the next day.

James found himself wondering where she was. He hadn't had the chance to talk to her after having successfully dealt with Reinette, and he'd told Martha not to tell her that the situation had been handled. He wanted to be the one to talk to her, and he wanted to make sure she knew that he would be quite disheartened if their affiliation ended now.

She didn't come in the day after that either, and slowly the whole week passed by without her teasing presence. James staunchly refused to admit that he looked over to the door hopefully whenever it opened, because he was absolutely not smitten with the girl he barely knew, but it still stung that Rose had apparently dropped off the face off the earth.

If Martha noticed his bitterness at her absence, she said nothing. He wondered if she had warned Rose off like she had him, or if she'd warned Rose about his obvious attachment to her. Would that be enough to drive her off? Did she feel like he was pushing the charade too far?

Perhaps she'd simply tired of him altogether. The possibility was real but unpleasant.

Had he maybe insulted her in some way? She hadn't seemed angry at him when she'd left the last time, but he would be the first to admit he often missed social cues, something Martha loved to tease him about.

James was fairly convinced he'd never lived through a longer week in his life – even that one week in uni when he hadn't slept for four days straight because he'd been studying for his exams. This was worse.

It was the eighth day of his torture that she finally came back.

James's eyes went to the door as they usually did, and his face lit up when it was finally her coming in. His pleasure didn't last very long, because one look at Rose had him frowning.

She'd obviously lost some weight – far too much for only a few days – and he could see makeup she didn't usually wear around her eyes, presumably to help conceal the fatigue that was creasing the skin around her eyes. Her usually warm gaze was heavy and slightly dull, and he could see the exhaustion in her expression. Her usually immaculate hair was pulled into a messy ponytail; the kind he could see her doing after getting frustrated with hair falling in her eyes. She was still beautiful, of course, because she was Rose and James McCrimmon would always think Rose Tyler was beautiful, but her evidently rough week had left her haggard.

He came out from behind the coffee counter and went over to her, a frown still on his face. Her lips pulled into a tired smile when she saw him and she made her way over to where he was waiting. When she got closer, he extended his arms, offering her hug, and her answering smile was thankful as she stepped into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist as he wrapped his around her shoulders. She sunk gratefully into the hug, resting her head on on chest.

At that moment, Martha came out of the staff room, stopping when she saw the two, her eyes widening as she met James's confused expression. She raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and he shook his head slightly not to jostle the girl in his arms. Martha jerked her head in the direction of the staff room, and James nodded. To Rose, he said, "go into the staff room. I'll make you a coffee and I'll be right there, alright?"

She nodded but didn't move out of his grip, making him chuckle. The laugh seemed to help, because when she stepped away there was a slight smile on her lips. Carefully, James pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart speeding up in his chest as he considered that this was the first time that he was kissing Rose only for her, not as display or an act. The thought made him slightly giddy, though he did his best to hide it from her.

Rose's gaze darted around the room, and finding a distinct lack of Reinette, she looked back at him with a smile, her cheeks flushing pink. Without saying anything more she headed into the staff room, and James went to make her a coffee. He went simple this time – a hazelnut latte that was fairly popular with his customers and that wouldn't take to long.

"What was that about?" Martha asked quietly from her position at the cash register.

"No idea," James said honestly as he expertly worked the espresso machine. He made the drink quickly, eager to get back to Rose. He waved quickly at Martha, who pressed her lips into a tight smile, and headed into the staff room, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

Rose was sitting at the table at the same place she'd sat over a week ago, but this time instead of smiling at him when she saw him come in she was facedown, her forehead resting on her forearms. She looked up when the door closed and smiled weakly. He handed her the coffee and pulled up a chair so that he was sitting next to her rather than across from her. He didn't say anything for several moments, letting her cup the warm ceramic with both hands, staring at it far too intently with tired eyes.

Finally, she looked up at him. "Thank you, James," she said quietly, no teasing lilt in her voice.

Lightly, he ran his hand over her hair, feeling tangles and knots under his fingers that he was certain the Rose Tyler from one week ago had not had. He wanted to ask what was wrong – to comfort her, to take her pain away, but when he found his voice, all that came out was, "are you alright?"

Rose squeezed her eyes shut and scratched her forehead with warm fingers. "Yes," she replied, somewhat on automatic. "No," she amended a few seconds later. Her hand returned to the mug and she let out a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. "I don't know." She said quietly.

"What happened?" He asked, knowing his concern was evident in his voice but not particularly caring.

She didn't reply for several minutes, her heavy gaze back on the coffee mug. Slowly, she lifted her head, her lips lightly pressed together, her gaze directly ahead. "A few weeks ago, I hired a new staff member. He was brilliant, really brilliant, and he knew it, but I figured the cockiness was alright because it was deserved – the man is brilliant with computers. A few of the board members argued. Where I found him…I don't…" she frowned to herself. "The process was…unusual. But I thought he was clever, and I thought that with the right training –" her voice broke, and when she finally looked up at him, there were tears beginning to form in her eyes. She looked away and hurriedly dried them with her fingers. "I guess it became a game to him. Instead of trying to learn to work with us, he hacked into the system using a chip he bought using the company name. Finance assumed he'd been given leave to do it because he had all the proper paperwork. It must have been one of the first things he managed to hack into.

"God knows where he found a storage key that would fit that much information, but he started small. One or two files here and there, seeing if he could slip past our defenses, get some of our less guarded files. It worked – we didn't know what was going on until a week ago – and he got bold. He'd take more files, more information, documents that very few people in the world have access to. He'd put them on a USB key and take them home, we think. We don't know for certain, because he hasn't plugged the dratted thing into any system we can monitor ourselves. Apparently he got what he wanted, or decided he'd proved himself – I don't know – but he didn't come to work last week. No notice, no call in, nothing.

"After a three days, I was notified. I put my reputation on the line for this stupid bloke, and he'd stopped showing up to work. Some of the tech experts took his computer – it's fairly suspicious when someone stops coming in, especially in our division – and worked their tech magic on it. I don't really understand it – I have very little to do with them, usually – but they told me what was going on. We don't even have a full inventory of what he stole yet." She laughed humourlessly. "And we have to hope he slips up and plugs the damn key into a computer we can track to retrieve the information."

James felt a click of understanding in his mind. "You don't know where he is," he realized, his horrified voice barely above a whisper. "He has all this information and you don't know where he is."

"It's my fault." Her words were whispered, but filled with terrible self-loathing and hopelessness. "I hired him. I  _vouched_  for him. And now –"

"No," James said emphatically, still lightly threading his fingers through her hair. His free hand went to her cheek, his thumb swiping across her cheekbone to catch a tear that had leaked through. "Rose, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known what he would do," he reassured her as best he could, knowing his words would not ease her sense of guilt.

"But it is," Rose said quickly, meeting his gaze. "James, my job…" she trailed off, her eyes going back to the coffee mug for several seconds before lifting to back to his face. "The technology we have available is incredible. Sometimes it feels like I'm showing the new recruits the universe. You should see the looks on their faces," she smiled wistfully, "and that's all I wanted to do. I wanted to show this clever bloke the universe, because who can really feel entirely self important when it comes to the  _universe_?" She sighed deeply. "I let my emotions get in the way, and I've put my company in danger because of it."

"Rose," He gently cupped her face with both hands, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry. But don't let the actions of one man convince you that being kind is a mistake."

"But it was my fault," she whispered again.

Realization hit James hard. "Rose," he said hesitantly, keeping her face in his hands but drawing his head away so that he could meet her gaze. "Have you been at your office for a week straight?"

One corner of her lips pulled into a weak smile. "Is it that obvious?"

And he understood. She hadn't let herself lose her strength for a full week. She'd literally lived in her office to try and make up for her mistake, giving her whole self to her job because she felt that it was her responsibility to fix the ills of the world. It was just so  _Rose_  that he couldn't believe he hadn't understood from the moment she'd walked into the shop. This was her allowing herself a moment of weakness in the relative privacy of the café's staff room.

In front of him.

He wasn't sure how to describe how he was feeling. He felt for her, naturally. She was obviously beyond exhausted from trying to fix her perceived wrongs, but he also felt a growing sense of intimacy. This strong girl was showing  _him_  her weak side – most people probably didn't even realize she  _had_  a weak side, and she had privileged him with the knowledge, seeking his comfort above everyone else's.

That solidified his decision.

"I only have to work for another half hour, then Donna's coming in," he told her quietly, running his thumb over her cheekbones. "Stay here, wait for me, and then I'll walk you home." She opened her mouth to protest, but he lightly pressed his index fingers to her lips. "No buts," he told her with a small smile. "You're not good to anyone if you work yourself to death, Rose. You need to take a break."

Her lips curled into a wry smile, and her eyes warmed considerably. "Doctor's orders, is it?" She asked him teasingly, sounding more like herself.

His answering smile was affectionate as he remembered their joke – the Doctor and Rose Tyler, saving the universe – and he chuckled. "Exactly. What good am I without my sidekick, anyway?"

"Oh, none at all," Rose teased again. "Thank you, James."

He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "Any time, Rose."

He stood to leave, knowing he had to at least get some work done before he left for the day, and immediately she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. He pointed his finger threateningly at the device. "No working," he said firmly.

She smiled at him and showed him the screen, where he saw a game of solitaire. "No working," she promised.

* * *

The following half hour, if possible, seemed to pass more slowly than all seven days without Rose combined, because now she was waiting for him in the staff room while he was stuck in the shop, serving drinks with a fake smile and growing impatience.

At 2PM on the dot, the end of his shift, he looked up hopefully at Martha, who was watching him with an amused expression on his face. She jerked her head towards the staff room door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He smiled gratefully at his boss and quickly slipped into the staff room. Rose looked up hopefully when she heard the door, and returned his wide grin with a small smile of her own. He practically floated over to the coatrack, where his preferred long brown trench coat awaited. He slipped it on and checked his pockets for his keys and wallet. Once he was satisfied that he had everything, he turned to Rose, who had already stood from her seat and pulled on her jacket. "Ready?" He asked cheerfully, offering his hand.

She hesitated for a moment before taking it, as though suddenly unsure, but wound their fingers together nonetheless, nodding her assent. He squeezed her hand gently and led her out of the staff room. She seemed mildly confused and looked up at him questioningly as they made their way through the shop to the door.

Both of them waved to Martha and Donna, who had just stepped in for her shift.

"I took your advice," he explained once they'd stepped outside. She inclined her head curiously. "About Reinette, I mean. I told her up front and clearly that I wasn't interested. I think it worked."

She smiled. "I'm glad."

"I wanted to tell you a week ago, but…" he trailed off, looking down at her hesitantly, and to his surprise he saw his own hesitation reflected in her expression. He squeezed her hand. "Rose, I don't…" He frowned wondering on earth he'd managed to have a week to figure out what to say but still come up blank. "I don't want to stop seeing you," he told her quickly. "I think…Rose, I like you a lot," he cursed his useless gob. He would talk for all of England, wasn't that what Jack had once told him? But his usual gob was failing him, and he looked helplessly down at her.

A small chuckle escaped her, and she leaned her head onto his bicep. "I don't want to stop seeing you either." She told him, a small smile on her lips.

"Right," he squeaked. "Good. Brilliant. Molto bene."

She stopped, stopped, looking confused.

"What?" He asked, worried.

"I left my car at my work," she said with a frown.

"Oh." He blinked in surprise. He hesitated before speaking again, "you could come to mine," he suggested, trying to sound nonchalant and knowing he was failing miserably. Her eyes widened in alarm, and he rushed to reassure her, "Not like that! I just meant…bollocks, I just meant you could use the company, and… and I like within walking distance of your work. I could walk you there, tomorrow. To your work, I mean. I could walk you to your work tomorrow."

"I –" She trailed off, biting her lip nervously. "I don't have an over night bag."

He snorted. "You've been living at your work for a week. Do you have a change of clothes there?"

She blushed. "Yes, but –"

"No buts," he told her again. Seeing her hesitant look, he sighed. "You deserve some rest, Rose. Come to mine. We can watch a movie and get some take away, and then go to sleep in completely different rooms." He realized how he might sound demanding, so he added, "you don't have to, obviously, but –"

"I get it," Rose laughed, finally moving her feet again. "Lead the way, James."

He grinned and squeezed her hand, leading her towards his flat.

* * *

She looked around when she stepped into the small flat, taking in the old couch that faced a television that looked like it had seen several upgrades (probably from James rather than a professional), his many gadgets lying around, and the kitchen that was littered in dirty dishes.

Looking around, James realized what a mess the place was. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't expecting company, and I'm not much of a cleaner…"

"It's fine, James," Rose told him with a smile, slipping out of her shoes and coat. He took the jacket and hung it next to his in the small closet. "It's big," she commented idly, though it was nothing compared to the size of her large flat. "Do you have a flatmate?"

"Yeah," James said as he led her into the living room. "Don't see much of him, actually. He spends a lot of time at work."

"What does he do?"

James frowned. "You know, I'm not a hundred percent sure." He said honestly, shrugging at her. She grinned, hugging herself as she looked around. "You want a cuppa?" James asked, because when in doubt, make tea.

"Sure, ta," Rose said gratefully, following him into the small kitchen.

He tried to take her in discretely. Her makeup was several days old, now that he was really looking, and her hair was still tangled. "You could take a shower, if you wanted," he offered as he filled the kettle with water, wincing when he realized what she might think he was implying.

But she looked grateful. "Yeah?" She asked. "I've been using the decontamination shower at work. Would kill for a real one."

"Of course." He started up the kettle and led her into his bedroom. She trailed a few steps behind as he dug through his drawers for some clothes she could wear afterwards. "I don't have anything that'll actually fit you," he told her apologetically, handing her a pair of his black fleece sweatpants and one of his old Star Trek t-shirts.

"That's alright," Rose said as she took the offered clothes and followed him into the bathroom. He reached into their linen closet, thankful that he'd done his laundry recently and had a clean towel to offer. He placed it on the sink, within reach of the shower, and then looked at her. She seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and, in an effort to help, he simply said, "alright, then," and stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, wincing at his own foolishness. He moved to the couch and sat heavily, listening to the kettle heat the water in the kitchen and the water that Rose had just turned on in the bathroom.

Rose was taking a shower in his flat.

Rose was  _naked_ in  _his_  bathroom, only a few feet away from him.

He was glad she couldn't see his whole face flush red. He used the fact that she was in the bathroom to his advantage, washing some of the dishes that cluttered the kitchen. He also changed the sheets on his bed, meaning to offer it to her and sleep on the couch himself. She needed it more than he did, he told himself, and she deserved a clean bed.

The kettle began to hiss loudly and he hurried to the kitchen to take it off the stove, wincing slightly when he burned the tip of his finger on the scalding metal. He decided to leave it for now, so that the water wouldn't get cold while Rose was in the shower, and went back to the couch, wondering what to do with himself while Rose showered.

He opted to turn on the telly, grinning when he saw that EastEnders was on. He wasn't a fan himself, but he recalled Rose telling him she sometimes watched it, and decided to leave it, settling comfortably to wait for her.

**Progress for our favourite pair! Remember to read and review, let me know what you thought! I hope everyone had safe and happy holidays!**


	4. Chapter 4

"I needed that," Rose sighed as she stepped out of the bathroom, using a towel to dry off damp blonde locks. He found himself staring – when wet, her hair was almost closer to brown than blonde, and it was pleasantly tousled and tangled by the quick motion of the towel. All makeup was gone from her skin, revealing her pale skin with cheeks reddened from steam. For the first time, he saw no mascara or eyeliner framing her eyes, but her warm hazel gaze was clear and as inviting as it was when she was all done up. His mouth went dry at the sight of her in his old clothes; a raggedy, science-officer-blue t shirt that had been through the wash too many times and black fleece pajama trousers with a small hole in the left knee. "Thank you, James."

He smiled, hoping she wouldn't notice his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. "Of course, Rose," He popped up from his seat, knowing Rose was watching him with something like amusement on her face. The shower seemed to have done her a world of good; her eyes were still tired, and her stance was weary, but the smile on her lips was real, and her eyes were simply tired, not exhausted beyond belief. He felt her eyes on him as he quickly went to the kitchen. "How do you take your tea?"

"One milk, one sugar," she replied from the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe in a manner that highlighted the curve of her hips – though he could see the movement was completely unintentional; not a calculated move on her part.

"Ah," James said as he poured boiling water into two mugs, "the wrong way."

Rose arched her eyebrows, pushing off from the doorframe and advancing on him. Her arms were crossed over her chest and the damp towel hung from her grip. "There's a wrong way to have tea?" She asked him. The teasing lilt had returned to her voice, and he smiled as he added milk to her tea.

"Oh, absolutely," he hummed in assent, shooting her a grin as a sugar cube  _plonked_  into the tea. He stirred it quickly and then passed her the mug, which she took, still eyeing him with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile, an expectant expression on her face. His smile widened and he dropped two sugar cubes into his own tea. "This," he said, lifting his mug to her eye level, "is the right way. Any other way is wrong."

Her eyes widened in surprise and her smile split into a wide grin. "You're full of it!" She exclaimed, giggling slightly.

"Sort of, yeah," James snarked, tapping her nose with his index finger as he slipped past her, revelling in the brief closeness with her, smelling his shampoo on her even over the warm scent of the tea. Her laugh followed him as he walked back to the couch.

He carefully set his mug down before sitting heavily in the couch, settling his long arms over the armrest and backrest as he settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa.

To his delight, she didn't sit on the other side, like most people probably would have. Instead she nestled herself into his side, sending him a quick smile before leaning forward and grabbing both of their mugs, passing him his and taking a sip from her own. When she settled back against him, he let his arm drop from the backrest to her shoulders, hoping she wouldn't notice his quickened pulse at their position. "What do you want to watch?" He asked her.

She looked up at him, biting her lip self-consciously. "You'll think it's silly."

 _Oh,_  now he  _had_  to know. "Go on, then," he urged, a smile on his face as he looked back down to her.

Her answering smile was shy. "It's just…it's been ages since I've watched the Harry Potter movies."

His answering grin was wide. "That's a brilliant idea!" He whooped as he jumped from the couch, missing the way her eyes widened in surprise and a second hand went to her tea mug to keep it from spilling. He placed his own cuppa back on the coffee table and made his way to his rather impressive collection of movies. "Which one should we watch?"

"Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop." She replied primly.

If possible, his smile widened at her chosen quote, and he plucked  _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_  out from the shelf. In seconds, he'd placed the disk into the DVD player and had returned to his seat, anxious to be next to her again. He grabbed the remote from where it had fallen between the couch cushions and hit  _play_.

Both of them smiled as the familiar chiming tune began to play. "It's been years since I've watched this one," Rose said as she leaned more heavily against him, her head falling to his shoulder.

"Me too," James said quietly, watching as Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall discussed the dislikable Dursleys. He took a sip of his tea and looked down at the girl who was leaning into his side. With her damp hair and makeup-free face, dressed in clothes that were too big for her rather than the usual expensive clothing, she suddenly looked quite young, and he realized he might have misjudged her age. Where he'd originally assumed she was 27 or 28, she now looked no more than 24. He recalled what Martha had said – she was an heiress and on the board of directors for her work – and realized that to have such a high position at work, she must have been forced to grow up quickly.

A smile formed on his lips when he realized she was mouthing all the words, like some sort of Harry Potter groupie, and he squeezed her shoulder, chuckling.

She looked up at him. "What?"

"You're mouthing all the words."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "Am not," she said weakly.

He laughed. "Yeah, you are. Do you seriously know all the words?"

She quirked one eyebrow and looked at him haughtily. "'There, there, Hagrid. It's not really goodbye, after all.'" She said, imitating Dumbledore's grave voice and making James laugh.

"That's brilliant," he chuckled, making her smile.

She sighed dramatically. "I have a myriad of useless talents," she told him, still in a mockingly serious tone.

"Do you indeed?" James questioned, mimicking her tone.

"Oh, most certainly," Rose nodded, taking a sip of her tea and humming briefly in pleasure. "Discovering them is all part of the Rose Tyler experience, Mr. McCrimmon." She told him with a wink.

Maybe she wouldn't notice the tips of his ears redden. A man could hope. "Is it?" He asked, wincing at the squeak in his voice. Her lips curled into a small smile. She went back to mouthing every character's line to give him time to recover, perfectly imitating Dudley's line;  _"daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?"_  out loud and making him choke on his sip of tea.

He moved his arm so that it fell around her waist instead of her shoulders, looking down at her to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable with the change in positions. She smiled slightly, shifting herself so that her legs rested across his thighs, her head still resting on his shoulder. She looked up at him, the slightest bit of hesitancy in her eyes disappearing when he grinned at her. Satisfied with his approval of the new seating arrangement, she nestled more comfortably into his side. "I can't believe it's not even 3PM yet," she said with a small laugh. He laughed with her. "I can't remember the last time I watched telly in the afternoon."

He scoffed. "Then you're obviously doing something wrong. I'll have you know that telly in the afternoon is a regular and much appreciated occurrence in the life of James McCrimmon."

"Is it?" Rose asked, a smile on her lips as her eyes stayed on the screen.

"Oh yes." James nodded. "You have much to learn, young padawan."

It was her who choked on her tea this time, looking up at him as she bit back laughter. "And are you to be my Jedi Master?"

He grinned widely. "I am  _so_  happy you understood that reference."

"I aim to please," she teased before returning her gaze to the film, where Harry had just acquired his phoenix-feather wand.

"You're doing a good job so far," he mentioned offhandedly.

Her cheeks tinged bright pink, and he grinned, pleased with himself.

Neither spoke for the next few minutes, both of their gazes locked on the screen as they watched young Harry run through the wall between platforms 9 and 10. They said nothing when James shifted to rest his cheek on the top of her head, but happy smiles formed on both of their faces and Rose bit her lip to hide a smile.

"Did you know there's a bloke that looks like you in the fourth movie?" Rose asks suddenly, not moving from her comfortable position.

"What?" James blinks, frowning in surprise. "Who?"

Rose shifted her head to be able to look at him, forcing him to lift his head. It might be less comfortable, but at least he could see her. Her wide, tired eyes gazed earnestly up at him, their warm colour reminding him of dark whiskey; the kind that got you drunk after only a couple shots. Looking at her now, he realized that even being around her was intoxicating.

Her voice brought him back to reality.

"Barty Crouch Jr." She told him, and it took him a moment to remember what they were talking about.

James grimaced. "Wasn't he disguised as Mad-Eye Moody for the whole movie?"

"Not him!" Rose laughed and lightly slapped his chest, and he caught her hand. "The actor that plays him when he's himself. David something."

"Hmm," James hummed thoughtfully. "Well do you want to watch that one next? That way we can decide with the real thing right here," he squeezed her waist at and winked at her, making her laugh.

"But I love the third one!" Rose whined. "We can get to the fourth one later."

"Well, how many did you plan on watching?" James asked, laughter in his voice.

She shrugged. "As many as we can before I fall asleep."

He looked down at her and saw that her eyelids were already beginning to droop. "Are you even going to get through this one?" He teased quietly. She shrugged and nestled further into his side, letting her head drop from his shoulder his chest, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and sighing contently.

He continued to watch the film, his arms full of his warm bundle. She smelled of tea, his shampoo, and a fragrance that was entirely her own, and her weight against his was strangely comforting. He hadn't dated anyone in years – not since his brief stint with Sarah Jane – and it was therefore very rare for him to hold someone in such an intimate position. He swallowed heavily and pulled her closer, wondering how his fake relationship had turned into this.

Whatever  _this_  was.

They hadn't actually established anything, he realized suddenly. He'd told her he didn't want to stop seeing her, and she'd responded in kind, but they hadn't actually clarified what  _seeing each other_  was. Was it friends that  _saw each other_  on occasion, or was it two people who were  _seeing each other_? What did she want? Maybe she just wanted to see him in a friendly way – getting coffee every few weeks, to catch up?

He sighed heavily. He didn't like not knowing where he stood with someone, especially when he knew  _where_  he wanted to stand with that someone.

"What?" Rose asked quietly.

"What?" James parroted.

The vibrations from his voice reverberated through his chest and into her core, and she smiled at the pleasant sensation. "That was a big sigh," she told him, shifting her head slightly.

He felt a slight tickle as her eyelashes brushed against his jaw, distracting him again. "Just thinking," he explained evasively, not wanting to explain his confusion and make her uncomfortable, especially when she was sitting flush against him and he could revel in her warmth.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes, searching his gaze with a slight frown on her face, wondering if anything had made him upset. "Something wrong?" She asked him, her voice thick with fatigue and her gaze slightly unfocused.

"No, I just…" he trailed off, taking in her makeup-free face and worried expression. Her eyes were liquid honey and her lips pressed into a slight pout. "I'm just so glad I met you," he told her honestly, reaching up with the hand that wasn't wrapped around her waist to gently tuck a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, gently running his thumb along her cheekbone. He smiled warmly at her.

She unconsciously leaned into his touch, and her lips curled into a slight smile and worry drained from her face. "Me too," she replied, taking in his earnest expression and chocolate brown eyes. His gaze flicked down to her lips and then back to her eyes, and she smiled slowly, her lips curling slowly upwards and the tip of her tongue visible under her canine.

"Rose," James, whispered, his arm tightening around her waist and his eyes dropped to the touch of pink poking out from between her teeth. Excitement surged through his body, and a thrill he hadn't felt with their other chaste kisses coursed through him. This wasn't a show, or him trying to drive another woman off, it was a longing he felt for Rose and Rose alone. He leaned forward slightly, watching her carefully through hooded eyes, not wanting to pressure her. She mimicked his movement, moving towards him and tilting her head slightly, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. James's breath hitched in his throat and his eyes darkened, and Rose felt heat begin to blaze in her core, her cheeks bright red and her breaths shallow and quick.

It was him who closed the distance, pressing his lips against her soft ones and cupping her cheek gently with his palm. She responded to his kiss immediately, adding a gentle pressure to his lips that sent tingling warmth into his stomach. The hand that had been cupping her cheek moved into her hair, his fingers tangling in her still-damp locks. The arm she'd been resting lazily across his tummy tensed, and her fingers pulled into a fist, bunching his shirt in a tight grip. Her free arm snaked its way up his chest to curl around the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair at the base of his neck, sending jolts of electricity down his spine. She withdrew for a moment and let out a shuddering breath before pressing her lips to his again. He tugged gently on the soft strands of hair knotted between his fingers and she increased the pressure on his lips, sucking his bottom lip gently.

He was suddenly very grateful to be sitting, certain that if he were standing, his knees would give out and he would tumble gracelessly to the ground. As it was, he tightened his grip on her waist, feeling her borrowed shirt ride up as she shifted against him. His thumb came in contact with an exposed skin, and both parties hissed as the rough skin of his thumb brushed against the soft skin of her waist. He pulled away from her lips, staying close enough that their breaths continued to intermingle, and met her gaze with his own, seeing her hazel eyes blaze with heat and arousal, all traces of tiredness momentarily gone. She swallowed thickly and let her gaze drop to his lips briefly, and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, the corners of her mouth curling upwards. His eyes widened slightly at the action and their gazes met again.

It was Rose who leaned in for the second kiss, closing her eyes and gently pressing her lips against his, she used the hand at the back of his neck to pull him to her, though he barely needed the encouragement – her lips were as intoxicating and as addicting as the rest of her, and he would give anything for his next dose of her.

"Well, this is interesting."

Rose and James sprang apart at the new voice, their eyes wide and expressions guilty. They looked up to see one Jack Harkness, standing at the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing smirk across his strong features. "Most people notice the door opening and closing," Jack said casually, smiling widely at James, who felt the tips of his ears redden in embarrassment. He turned his gaze to the other participant, and the cocky expression faltered. "Rose?"

" _Jack?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weee, first actual real kiss between James and Rose!


	5. Hands off the Blonde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um. Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, dears!

Jack Harkness walked up the stairs to his flat slowly, feeling his feet drag and his legs protesting every step of the way. He felt like he hadn't sat down – save for driving his car – in three days. Since a certain sly weasel named  _Adam Mitchell_  had vamoosed from Torchwood, many of the higher ups and computer techs hadn't left in days, everyone working at the top of their game to try and recover the top secret files that had been stolen from Torchwood.

In fact, he was relatively certain that one of his favourite staff members and his former training officer, Rose, hadn't left in the office in a week. He'd needed to encourage her to take time away from her desk, dragging her on runs on the facility's track and forcing her to come eat lunch with him. It was the best he could do, knowing there was no way to convince her to leave the building, just like there was no way to convince her that it wasn't her fault.

He tried, several times, to remind her that she wasn't responsible for the idiot's actions. Each time she'd ignored his gaze and pressed her lips together, and he could see the self-loathing in her gaze. Eventually he'd given up, knowing the best he could do for her was to force her to leave her office every few hours, to eat at least twice a day, and make sure she slept at least a few hours a night.

He'd spent the past three days and two nights over at Torchwood, and he'd debated spending the night again, but there was little he could do for the techs, who were doing their best to track down the missing information. After a final glare from one of the technicians, he'd been forced to admit there was little more he could do at Torchwood, and he'd packed up and come home, eager to spend the night in his own bed (he usually wasn't so enthusiastic about  _sleeping_  in his  _own_  bed, but there was a first time for everything).

He wiggled his key into the lock and let himself into the flat he shared with one James McCrimmon, a friend he'd met when he'd only just moved to London and had been needing a place to live. He'd drowned his sorrows in sweet, caffeinated drinks, telling his woes to the kind barista (who ended up already having a boyfriend and not being interested in a threesome), who'd then informed him that one of her staff members was looking for a flatmate.

Jack had met the man a few hours later, when he'd come in to the shop from his shift, and they'd hit it off, regardless of their opposite personalities. During their long friendship, Jack hadn't known James to spent much time with anyone but Donna, Martha, and Martha's boyfriend Mickey. He'd spent a few months dating a kind woman named Sarah Jane, but the two hadn't lasted and had spilt on relatively amicable terms.

Which was why it was a shock for Jack to walk into his flat and see his flatmate locking lips with a blonde woman whose face he couldn't see.

A knowing grin formed on Jack's lips. The two gave no indication of having heard the door open and close, completely absorbed in each other.

"Well," he drawled, "this is interesting."

The two sprang apart, faces flushed a guilty red. James looked up at him in surprise, as though it had never occurred to him that his flatmate might come home while he was snogging someone on the couch. His usually carefully mused hair was in quite the state of disarray, his eyes were slightly glazed over, and his lips were swollen. Jack smirked, knowing the signs of being thoroughly snogged and not just kissed in passing.

"Most people notice the door opening and closing," Jack remarked, a wide, shameless grin on his face. James's ears went red and Jack fought back the laughter that was building in his throat as he turned his attention to the woman in the room. He blinked in shock when he saw who was looking back at him, hazel eyes wide and dark circles around the eyes, showing her obvious exhaustion. He'd joked about kissing those slightly-too-wide lips several times. "Rose?" He realized, his own eyes widening in surprise.

" _Jack?"_  Rose gasped in surprise, looking between the two of them for a moment before settling her gaze on James. "Your flatmate is  _Jack_?"

" _You_  know Jack?" James demanded, equally stunned, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

Jack watched the exchange, a smile returning to his face. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it in the small closet, his grin widening when he saw Rose's jacket was already there.

"Hey, don't mind me." Jack moved into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fridge and wiping it on his shirt, still grinning at the uncomfortable pair on the couch. "I'm not here. Unless you're into that." He waggled his eyebrows. James shot him a glare while Rose rolled her eyes, familiar with his antics and willing the blush to leave her cheeks.

Obviously giving up, Rose heaved a sigh and settled back against James, who placed his arm around her waist, back into the position they'd been in before. They both turned their attentions back to the screen to watch Harry Potter get sorted into Gryffindor.

"Do you want to watch the movie, Jack?" Rose offered diplomatically. James looked at her in surprise, and she shrugged. "Are you really going to want to go back to what we were doing before if he's in the apartment?" She teased, her tongue poking out from her grin.

James's eyes unabashedly zeroed in on the tantalizing bit of pink. "Guess not," he sighed dramatically, his arm tightening around her waist as Jack sat on the other end of the couch. He shot the American a glare, and Jack read the message loud and clear.

 _Hands off the blonde_.

"So, boss," Jack began, ignoring James's glare, "how do you know James?"

Rose wrinkled her nose, and Jack saw the brief adoring look it got her from James. "Is there such thing as the opposite of a wingman?" She asked Jack, the pink mostly gone from her cheeks. He shrugged, and she smiled, looking at James and then back to Jack. "James was having trouble with a very… _persistent_ …woman at the shop. My friend Martha called in a favour."

"A favour?" Jack repeated, getting the gist of the story but knowing that the more Rose talked about it, the more uncomfortable James got and enjoying his flatemate's discomfort. Rose grinned up at James, who sighed.

"Rose pretended to be my girlfriend so that the other woman would back off." He explained drily, still glaring at Jack, who was still happily ignoring the looks.

Jack settled more comfortably into the couch. "Really taking your role to heart, aren't you, boss?"

Both of their faces flushed red again, and Jack's grin widened. This was too easy.

Suddenly James frowned, looking between Jack and Rose in confusion. "Why do you keep calling her 'boss'?" He asked Jack, who realized his slip. Jack and Rose exchanged a wide-eyed look. Rose swallowed thickly and looked down. "You work together?" James realized, frowning. Both Rose and Jack were strangely secretive about their jobs, so he supposed it made sense, but it was one hell of a coincidence.

Neither Rose nor Jack spoke for a few seconds, exchanging unsure looks. Rose remembered James telling her he didn't know what his flatmate did, so she wasn't sure how trusted James could be with the finer details of their work at Torchwood.

 _But_ …

She'd willingly gone to James about her current troubles at work. True, she might not have given him any real details other than important information had been stolen and she felt responsible, but she'd still gone to him. It was him she wanted to turn to after a long day, regardless of the fact that realistically, she barely knew him. Still, she could probably tell him some of the truth, if not all of it. "I…was Jack's training officer when he first started at Torchwood." She said slowly, looking at Jack rather than James, both of whom were watching her carefully.

James lifted his gaze to Jack, confusion written across his features. "You work for Torchwood?" He asked his flatmate, wondering why he hadn't known. Jack nodded tensely, watching Rose carefully. He wasn't sure how much Rose had revealed to James about Torchwood, but he knew it was probably very little – Rose took the secrecy of the institute very seriously, which was one of the reasons she felt so directly responsible with the current information leak.

James looked down at Rose, whose shoulders had tensed significantly. Her face became blank, as though she were afraid of what she would give away. She swallowed and looked up at him hopefully. "No work, remember?" She told him quietly, trying to somehow convey the message that she  _would_ tell him, just not now.

His nostrils flared as he looked at her, wanting to know the truth. Then he sighed. The whole point of bringing her here was so that she could get away from work for a few hours, to get away from the stress. He could see that the current conversation was causing her to feel the very stress he was supposed to be easing. "No work," he promised, seeing relief and gratefulness in her expression. She shot a look at Jack, who was watching with an unreadable expression. With a sigh, she shifted against James, resettling her head in the crook of his neck and resting her arm across his stomach, closing her eyes.

The fatigue that had disappeared during their… _previous activities..._ was back in full force, and she let out a heavy breath, feeling James's arms tighten around her. She could feel Jack's eyes burning into her back, but decided to ignore him in favour of cuddling up to James. She felt James's cheek rest against the top of her head and his nose in her hair, and she smiled to herself. She allowed her mind to wander, feeling the blank blissfulness of sleep beginning to ease her mind, and she let it. She could feel the vibrations of James's chest, presumably because he was talking to Jack, and let the calming sensation lull her to sleep.

* * *

"Is she alright?" Jack asked James, seeing the protective way the other man held her to his chest as her breathing evened out in her sleep.

"She's fine," James replied quietly, not wanting to wake her. "Just tired." He slowly (and soothingly, he hoped) ran his thumb over the small patch of skin between her t-shirt and the waist of the borrowed trousers.

Jack watched with an unreadable expression. "She was there for seven days straight." He said needlessly, turning his attention back to the movie.

"I know."

"I couldn't make her leave."

James frowned at his flatmate, who was now decidedly not looking at him. "You tried?" He asked, unsure of the relationship between the two of them.

Jack was quiet for a few moments because he spoke again. "She told you what happened?" He asked, and James frowned at the lack of an answer.

"Yeah, she did."

Jack looked at her, still not looking at James. There was a fondness in his friend's gaze that worried him. "Then you know how she feels. She thinks it's her fault."

"It wasn't." James snapped quietly.

Jack finally lifted his eyes to James's face, his expression serious. " _I_ know that," he told James. "I didn't say that I thought it was her fault, I said  _she_  thought it was her fault. She's stubborn. I tried to convince her to leave, but so long as she was adamant that it was her fault, she wouldn't. I did what I could," he continued earnestly, turning his gaze back to the telly, "I made sure she remembered to eat, and got some exercise." He sighed. "A lot of us have been practically living there, trying to sort everything out."

"Is that where you've been?" James asked boldly, wondering what sort of information he could get on Jack's job.

"Yeah," Jack replied simply, not offering up any information. He looked back at Rose, then up to James. "How did you convince her to leave?"

James shook his head. "I didn't. She came to the shop." Jack's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. It seemed very unlike his favourite brigadier to leave willingly. He wondered at the depth of their relationship. Neither had actually mentioned how long the "fake" relationship had been going on (though he was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was not longer just a  _fake_  relationship). "She looked…" James trailed off, finding himself at a loss for adjectives to describe how she'd looked when she'd finally come into the shop, and shook his head.

"Beaten," Jack said quietly, and James lifted his gaze to him. Jack continued, "she puts on a good show, but those of us who know her, we can see it. Which makes me wonder," he could almost feel James tensing up as he finished his sentence, "how long  _you've_  known her. Because Rose is one of the strongest people I know. Probably  _the_  strongest. So who are you to her that she let you see her like this?"

James had half a mind to tell Jack to piss off, but as he met the man's steady gaze, he saw that the intruding question was not out of anger or even nosiness, but rather out of care for Rose. They may have been friends and flatmates for years, but there was no doubt in James' mind that if it came down it, Jack would be in Rose's corner.

That led him back to a thought he'd had the previous week, when he'd been talking to Martha about his relationship with Rose. She'd said that if he and Rose actually developed a relationship, he'd face Mickey's brotherly speech as well, and he'd wondered what it was about Rose that inspired such loyalty in people. Now he was asking the same thing. What was it about Rose that made Jack – and Martha and Mickey – so dedicated to keeping her safe and protected? Not to mention that he'd only met her a week ago, seen her thrice, and now she was sitting half on his lap and he was holding her as though keeping her in his arms could protect her from the ills of the world. Whatever spell she cast on people, it was affecting him, too.

"I don't know who I am to her," he found himself saying. "I know who I want to be, I think, but I don't…" he struggled for the words again, "I don't know who she wants me to be. I think that I could be anything she wanted. If all she wants is a friend, I could do that. It's like…" he trailed off again, knowing Jack must be laughing internally as he struggled to express how he felt.

Jack's small smile was crooked. "You'll take whatever she's willing to give," he finished for James, who nodded. He couldn't have phrased it better. Jack's smile widened. "Yeah, she brings that out in people. I don't know what it is, exactly, but people want to know her. Most of the time, anyway."

James said nothing, unsure of whether or not the conversation was over.

It wasn't. "You never said how long you've known her." Jack pressed.

James blinked. "Does it matter?"

"Yes," Jack said sharply.

James let out a breath, looking at the screen rather than at Jack. "A week." He answered reluctantly.

He missed how Jack's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "A week?" Jack repeated, and James nodded.

Jack had known Rose since he'd started at Torchwood four years ago, and he knew that while Rose made friends easily – her bubbly personality and easy smile drew people in – but she didn't have many close friends. So for Rose to trust James this much after only knowing him for a week was very unlike her, and Jack found himself concerned for his former boss, as well as determined to keep a close eye on the two, regardless of how good a match they were.

* * *

"Did you guys plan anything for dinner?" Jack asked from the kitchen, looking into the near empty fridge and wincing.

"No," James replied from his position on the couch, Rose still draped over him.

Jack had to hand it to James. The man hadn't moved from the couch since Rose had fallen asleep two hours ago. He didn't even seem bothered, instead looking completely comfortable with the woman strew across his lap. Rose, in her sleep, also seemed completely comfortable using James as a pillow. Jack grinned to himself. He recognized the looks James had been giving Rose – he'd seen them on the faces of Martha and Mickey when they looked at each other, and on the faces of his old friends Amy and Rory, and on Gwen and Rhys…he'd never seen that look on James's face, and the very idea that James had found someone that made his face look like  _that_  made Jack smile.

"You want to get some take away?" Jack suggested cheerfully.

"Sounds good to me," James nodded. He bent his head so that his lips were near Rose's ear. "Rose. Wake up," he whispered. She stirred against him and groaned, tightening her grip on his waist. "Rose," he whispered again.

"Wha'?" she grumbled into his shirt.

"What do you want for dinner?" He asked her quietly.

"Don't care," she mumbled.

"Pick something." He encouraged, a teasing not in his voice.

"No," she whispered, and he could see the corners of her lips turn upwards.

"Rose," he said again, a little louder, "pick something to eat," he told her, squeezing her sides gently and making her jump and giggle slightly.

"Stop," she laughed.

"Pick something to eat," he bargained, "and I will." He squeezed her sides again, and she wiggled.

"James!" She laughed, fully awake now.

Jack felt a strange need to avert his eyes. Though the two weren't being overly physical, and Jack wasn't the shy sort, but he felt as though he were looking on something strangely intimate.

* * *

"Jack."

Jack looked up to see James and Rose smiling at him from over the back of the couch, Rose's face slightly flushed. "Yeah?" He replied, raising his eyebrows and smirking.

"We decided on Chinese," James said, wincing suddenly and shooting a surprised look at Rose, who smiled innocently. He winced again. "Stop poking me!"

"You poked me," Rose replied indignantly. "I have to take advantages where I can get them." She looked at Jack and shrugged.

"This is as adorable as a basket of kittens," Jack drawled as he pulled a menu from their drawer, holding it up for James and Rose to see. "Let's pick some food."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Please remember to leave a word if you have time and let me know what you thought - I love to hear from you guys. If you're impatient, the version of this story on fanfiction.net is further along - I'll be posting chapter 9 within the next two days, but if you're happy to read here, then so be it.


	6. After the Movie

Discarded cardboard containers littered the table, and James, Jack, and Rose sat comfortably on the couch, completely full after their large meal.

"I haven't eaten that much in weeks," Rose groaned, holding her stomach and leaning heavily against James, who had one arm slung casually over her shoulders. He shot a curious look at Jack, who was looking at Rose with an unfathomable expression.

"Why haven't you been eating?" James asked, keeping his voice purposefully light when Jack said nothing.

Rose shot a wide-eyed look at Jack, as though hoping he would save her from having to answer. Jack simply lifted his eyebrows as her. James was grateful and surprised. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that Jack cared deeply for Rose, and it was slightly strange – and uncharacteristic of what he'd seen of Rose's friends – that he wasn't jumping to defend her. He realized then how concerned Jack was for Rose – he wouldn't defend her not eating to James, not if her health was at stake.

"No time," Rose answered shortly, realizing very quickly that she did not like getting ganged up on by the two.

"Really, Rose?" Jack asked idly, taking a sip from his class of water. "Seems to me that you'd have a lot of time to eat, considering you were at work for twenty-four hours a day for seven days."

Rose pressed her lips together, shooting Jack a glare. "I was there for a reason, Jack. If I'm not mistaken, you were there for a few days at a time, too," she retorted drily, obviously feeling slightly under attack and not liking it one bit.

James squeezed Rose's shoulders, and she turned her irritated gaze to him. "No working," He told her quietly. Her face stayed stony for a few more moments before she finally relaxed, letting out a deep breath. She leaned her head on James's shoulder, shooting a final glare at Jack, who innocently raised his glass in to her in a mocking salute before taking another sip.

Rose returned her gaze to the telly, where Harry Potter was riding Buckbeak for the first time. "I could see you doing that." She said quietly to James, who almost didn't hear the comment.

"What?" James chuckled.

She gestured to the screen. "Going flying on a hippogriff. I could see you doing that."

James blinked, unsure of what to say. "Is that a good thing?" He asked curiously, looking down at her just as she looked up to his face.

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips. "Makes you the protagonist, I suppose," she teased, tilting her head so she could examine his features, even though it was at a slightly awkward angle.

His gaze flicked down to her lips before he met her warm eyes. "Of whose story?" He asked quietly. A faint blush crept into her cheeks, and he smiled fondly.

A small smile blossomed on her lips as she regarded him, taking in every freckle and every feature. "Not sure yet," she told him, and he felt a shred of hope bloom in his stomach. "We'll see, I suppose."

"I suppose we will," James answered, trying to sound nonchalant regardless of the fact that he found himself unable to keep the wide smile that was quickly forming at bay.

Jack, in a very  _un_ -Jack-like manner, took that as his cue to leave. "Well, kids," he said loudly, grinning when Rose and James jumped, looking at him in surprise. "That's it for me, I think. I'm going to take a shower and get to bed." He patted Rose's calf, which was quite near him as she lounged on the couch, and stood up, making his way to the bathroom.

James looked at his watch in confusion. "Jack, it isn't even 6:30," he told his flatmate, internally wondering what on earth he was questioning his flatmate's motives. Jack was getting out of his hair, and he should absolutely let him. Things had been going perfectly well before his arrival, after all.

Jack turned when he got to the doorway of the bathroom, a knowing smirk on his face. If he looked carefully, James realized he could see hints of exhaustion on the man's handsome features. "Yeah, and I've been stuck at the office for four days. If she can fall asleep on the couch at 3 in the afternoon," Rose's blush darkened, "then I can go to bed at 6:30." He closed the door of the bathroom before Rose or James could argue, and they heard the shower knob swivel on and water start to run.

Rose looked up at James and shrugged, once again resting her head on his shoulder and turning her attention to the telly. Though she had managed to get a nap in, James could still see the fatigue in her eyes, and he knew that she probably wouldn't last much longer. "Do you want to go to bed, too?" He asked her quietly, hoping she didn't because he was still very much enjoying cuddling with her, and he would absolutely be the gentleman, giving her his bed whilst he slept on the couch. It wasn't the most comfortable piece of furniture, and James was certain that he would wake up with a stiff neck and a sore back, but she needed a real bed and some rest more desperately than he, and he didn't mind giving up a single night's worth of sleep if he could convince her to finally give her body some time to recover.

To his delight, she shook her head, musing her hair even further against the cotton of his shirt. "After the movie, maybe," she answered, a wide yawn punctuating her statement.

"Okay," he murmured, resting his cheek against her hair.

* * *

A nearly overwhelming tiredness had returned to Rose's mind by the time the film was over, and when she finally managed to stand up from her comfortable position against James, her limbs felt heavy. Thinking and processing anything he said to her was difficult, and she was dimly reminded of trying to see through fog, squinting to see into the mist.

It reminded her of drunkenness, in a way, but this was much less pleasant. Alcohol didn't make her extremities feel as though they were weighted down by lead.

James managed to scrounge up a spare toothbrush, still in its packaging, and passed it to her triumphantly. She grinned when she took it, making quick work of brushing her teeth so that she could finally close her eyes and let sleep overcome her. Her face had already been scrubbed when she'd taken a shower, so she was satisfied that, teeth smooth under her tongue, she was ready to go to sleep. She realized suddenly as she exited the bathroom that she and James hadn't discussed sleeping arrangements.

While she didn't want to commandeer his bed, if she slept on the couch, that would limit his movements – he'd essentially be trapped in his room until morning, and it was only barely 8PM.

As she hesitantly walked back into the living room, James poked his out from his bedroom, smiling at her and motioning with his hand for her to follow him in.

"Got the bed ready for you," he said cheerfully, tossing the comforter over the sheets. "Clean sheets. Figured if I can't give you a clean apartment, I can at least give you clean sheets." He smiled widely at her, gesturing to his bed as though it were an exhibit in a museum and she should  _oooh_ and  _aaah_  in response.

She looked at the bed in surprise, then back up to James, who was grinning at her with a hint of hesitation in his expression. His hand went through his hair – a clear sign of his discomfort – and she realized he was waiting for her to say something.

Finally, she smiled. "Thank you, James," she said sincerely, moving over to where he stood to wrap him in a tight hug, which he returned. She felt like she'd thanked him at least ten times since arriving at his flat only a few hours ago, but it felt as though the  _thank you_ 's did not accurately represent her gratefulness to him for taking care of her, regardless of how difficult she unintentionally made it.

"Of course," He said quietly, knowing the tips of his ears had gone pink again. She pulled away from their hug and gently pressed her lips to his cheek, and his skin warmed under her touch. For a moment she met his eyes, as though gauging his reaction, then she leaned in and lightly kissed his lips. It was chaste and short and when she pulled away from him she smiled warmly, and he reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead.

Her cheeks tinged the colour of her namesake and he felt warmth and affection stir in his core. "Good night, Rose," he half-whispered, running his thumb lightly over her cheekbone and repressing a shiver of delight when she leaned into his touch.

She blinked slowly and her lips pulled into a slow smile. "Good night, James," she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. She stepped out of his grip and he moved toward the door, reaching up to flick the light switch off, stopped by a hesitant, "James?"

He turned to meet her gaze and saw that she was looking at him with and unsure expression on her face, her teeth sinking tantalizingly into her lower lip. "Yeah?"

Her teeth released her lip but she immediately pressed her lips together, and as they curled around her teeth slightly he realized she was the picture of insecurity. "I just…I wanted…you don't have to…" she shook her head, her cheeks bright pink and her eyes not directly meeting his gaze. "You don't have to sleep out there," she gestured to the couch, "I just mean," she made an irritated noise and ran her hand through her hair before finally holding her hands up exasperation. "I don't mind sharing. The bed, I mean. We can sleep in the same bed, without…" she gestured again, her face bright red.

Realization dawned on him, and his eyes widened, "oh," his felt his face heat up. "Um. Thanks."

She nodded jerkily and bit her lip.

He swallowed. "Alright, then," he said hurriedly, flicking the light off and closing the door behind him.

* * *

Rose let out a breath when the door closed behind him. She hadn't meant to sound so… _awkward_. All she'd wanted to tell him was that she didn't mind if they slept in the same bed because undoubtedly his bed was more comfortable than the couch, and it was  _his_  flat, after all.

Not to mention the fact that falling asleep against him, his arms wrapped protectively around her, had been the most comfortable she'd been in years.

She blinked and then groaned, covering her face with her hands. There was no way she could bring that up without sounding horribly and terribly awkward, she realized, no matter how well-meaning the offer was. The damage was done.

She climbed into the inviting bed and burrowed under the covers, hoping that if James  _did_ , by some miracle _,_  choose to sleep in his bed, with her, rather than the couch, her face would no longer be bright red.

Or, if it was, which seemed likely at this point, that he wouldn't notice.

With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and hoped that sleep would come easily, though she was certain it wouldn't come as easy as when she was pressed against James's side, his arm around her waist.

* * *

James wrung his hands, sitting on the couch and absentmindedly watching the news. It was only 9:30 – far too early for him to consider going to bed. But with Rose bundled in his bed and a standing invite to cuddle up next to her, going to bed was very,  _very_ tempting.

He shook his head at his own folly and rose from the couch, clicking off the telly and making his way to the bathroom brush his teeth and wash his face.

He was a grown man, he told himself. If he wanted to go to bed at 9:30, he could.

Especially if a gorgeous woman was there too.

The process was fast – mostly because  _Rose was waiting in his bed_  – and he was ready to sleep a few minutes later. He went to his bedroom and placed his hand on the handle, pausing.

He took a deep breath, telling himself to stop stressing out. After all, he'd spent the entire afternoon with Rose on his lap, it wasn't like this was going to be much different. If anything, there would probably be more space between the two of them on the bed. He opened the door quietly, slipped into his room and closed the door soundlessly behind him, giving his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark room before attempting to move.

It took longer than he expected, but eventually his eyes adjusted and he could see the Rose's outline under the blankets, and he could safely climb into bed without crushing her or accidentally kicking her. He moved to the side of the bed she wasn't occupying and slid in, feeling his heart pound loudly in his chest and wondering how the loud and quick beat of his pulse hadn't woken her up.

She shifted and her eyes slowly blinked open. They widened when they came landed on him, and it seemed to take a few minutes for something to sink in. "James?" She whispered, turning to look at him.

"Yeah," he whispered back. "This okay?"

"Yeah," she repeated. After a few seconds, the blankets rustled and he felt the mattress dip slightly. Quite like that she was next to him, her face only a few inches from his and her eyes glinting slightly, reflecting a light he couldn't see. A stray strand of hair tickled his nose. "This alright?" Her question was a barely audible whisper.

Feeling a stroke of boldness surge through him, he inched closer, loosely wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he replied breathlessly.

She shifted until she was comfortable, almost pressed flush against him, her head tucked under his chin. He heard her inhale deeply before quietly responding, "good."

He smiled affectionately and closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Rose woke slowly, her eyes lazily blinking open and revealing the unfamiliar room. For a moment, panic shot through her; where was she? A soft snore drew her attention to her side, where her eyes landed on a still sleeping James, and all tension melted out of her in a moment. She yawned widely and shuffled comfortably against her human pillow, and he responded by tightening the arms that had managed to use to encircle her waist. Tentatively, Rose lifted her head to spot his alarm clock. The light from the small device was harsh against her sensitive eyes, so she had to squint to make out the time.  _4:43AM_. She resettled her head comfortably on his chest, feeling his heart pound slowly and steadily under her touch.

She was far more comfortable than she'd been in the past week, during which most of her sleep had occurred at her desk in the form of short naps between caffeine-induced hazes. Now she cuddled against James's warm body, enveloped in his soft blankets and in a comfortably dark room.

And she had to use the loo.

 _Bollocks_.

She deliberated for a moment, but it only took a few seconds to realize that it couldn't wait, and, with difficulty, she managed to slip out of James's grasp. She paused when he whimpered, but when she looked over he was still asleep, though a frown had creased the skin between his eyebrows. She reached over and soothed it with her thumb before pressing a light kiss to the spot, and the creases disappeared. She smiled affectionately at his sleeping form before quietly slipping out of the room.

To her surprise, the lights in the kitchen were already on, and Jack was watching the coffee maker fill a clear pot of coffee with bleary eyes. He was already dressed in his usual attire – a clean, pressed oxford and dark trousers held up by braces, but his hair was still mused from sleep and his expression had yet to clear. Rose made sure to quietly close the door to John's bedroom so the light from the kitchen wouldn't wake him up.

The noise caught Jack's attention and he looked up in surprise when he saw Rose in too-big fleece pajama bottoms and borrowed t-shirt, her hair a tangled mess from sleep. He may have been tired, but he still smirked at the sight of her, used to seeing her completely put together. "Mornin', boss," he greeted.

She briefly held up her hand in a lazy wave, and Jack's smirk widened. Rose Tyler had never been – nor would she ever be – a morning person. She made her way to the bathroom and closed the door behind her, and Jack turned his attention back to the pot of coffee, wishing he'd had the foresight to start it, then get dressed, so that he wouldn't be stuck staring at it.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before Rose re-emerged, her hands damp from washing them and still otherwise looking half asleep. "You're up early," she commented to Jack, moving to the kitchen and plopping heavily into one of the chairs, punctuating her statement with a wide yawn that Jack had to admit was rather adorable in her tired state. Jack could count on his fingers the amount of times Rose had looked her proper age – twenty-five – in front of him, usually seeming older due to her confident and put-together appearance and high military rank making.

"So are you," he replied simply. Then he grinned, looking more like himself, if only a tired version. "I'd have thought James would have exhausted you," he looked meaningfully at the door to James's bedroom from which she'd emerged and winked salaciously at her. He'd noticed immediately upon waking up that James was not sleeping on the couch, which Jack had been certain he'd try to do, knowing his flatmate to be a gentleman. Rose snorted in a distinctly un-lady-like manner, and Jack bit back a laugh. While he liked Rose in all her forms, just-waking-up-Rose (if she was not angry with him in particular) never failed to put a smile on his face. She never seemed more human and normal than when she was her grouchy, non-caffeinated self.

The coffee maker beeped promisingly and Jack pulled out his largest mug, filling it to the rim with the dark liquid and taking a sip that burned his tongue. He let out an appreciative breath once he'd swallowed and raised an eyebrow at Rose, who was still sitting at the table and watching him with a disinterested expression. "Want to ride with me to work?" He offered, "I was going to leave after this cup, but I could wait if you wanted to come."

Rose bit her lip and her gaze flicked over to the door to John's bedroom. Jack didn't miss the look and a wide grin returned to his face. If he'd have thought that Rose and James would have gotten along so well, he would have introduced the pair years ago. He shrugged nonchalantly and took another sip. "Or come in later, whatever works."

She looked up at him unsurely, her teeth still gnawing at her lip. "I should go in," she said, though she didn't seem to want to at all. "If you're going in, I should too."

Jack shook his head. "Come on, now, boss. I was there for three days. You were there for seven. You can take a few more hours to relax."

Rose's expression morphed into painful hope. "You think?"

Jack was struck with another bout of hatred for Adam Mitchell. If Rose loved anything, she loved her job, but the idiot had made it painful for her, making her feel like she couldn't relax until she'd solved the problems she thought she'd caused. "Of course," he lightly placed his palm on her shoulder, looking at her seriously. "Take a breather, Rose. I'll call if anything comes up."

Rose smiled gratefully at him, rising from her seat. "I'll see you later, then," she said with another lazy wave, turning and heading back into James's bedroom. She slipped in quietly, opening and closing the door soundlessly and feeling Jack's eyes on her back until she was completely out of his line of sight. She felt a wave of gratefulness for her friend and sighed loudly once the door latched behind her.

She moved directly to James's bed, where he was still resting peacefully, and slipped under the covers. She shuffled until she was pressed against him once more, her head resting comfortably on his chest and one arm draped lazily over his torso. In his sleep, he shifted and maneuvered his arms to wrap them around her waist once more, and she smiled widely against his chest, feeling warmth and giddiness bubble in her core. She let out a deep breath and closed her eyes, and sleep overtook her once more.

* * *

The first thing that James became aware of when he woke up was the unfamiliar weight on his chest.

The second was the scent of Rose's hair.

He opened his eyes and looked down and the girl in his bed. He couldn't see her face, only the top of her head, but her breathing was even and slow, and her arm was resting across his torso in a lazy but strangely possessive manner. He turned his head to look at the time.

_8:07_

Surprise slowly registered in his mind, his thoughts still groggy and muddled from sleep. He'd expected her to be out the door freakishly early, yet she was still fast asleep.

Oh, well. He certainly wouldn't argue, knowing that regardless of what she thought she was probably desperately in need of a day off. He was certain she wouldn't agree to that, so for now he decided to simply let her sleep until she woke up.

Trouble was, James, unlike Rose,  _was_  a morning person. After a few moments of allowing his brain to wake slowly, he was completely aware and awake in his bed, though very reluctant to move. With a deep, content sigh, James loosened his grip on Rose's waist and brought one hand up to her hair, gently running his fingers through the tangled locks and massaging her scalp. She muttered something unintelligible against his chest, still asleep, and he smiled fondly at the precious bundle he held in his arms.

He allowed his mind to wander, though it never strayed too far from Rose. He wondered about her relationship with Martha. He hadn't forgotten that he'd had the fortune to meet her because she'd owed Martha a favour, apparently for something Rose thought was hilarious. He wondered if he could bring it up again. She'd nearly brought herself to tears laughing last time they'd discussed it, and he wanted to know what on earth was so funny. He wondered about how she  _knew_  Martha. They seemed to be from completely different worlds – Martha had grown up in a perfectly average – perhaps upper middle class – household, while Rose, apparently, had grown up an heiress to one of the largest corporations in the world. Chances were that she'd lived a relatively privileged life.

He wondered how she knew Mickey. Had she met Mickey through Martha, or Martha through Mickey? Perhaps she'd met them when they were already together. No, that wasn't right. He recalled Martha telling him that Mickey had known Rose longer than she had.

James frowned. He was relatively certain that Mickey was a mechanic, and again he was left with the question of how Rose became acquainted with someone may as well live in a different world. She wasn't what he would expect from an heiress – she wasn't cold or distant, nor did she seem to care about stations and status – but still, it seemed strange.

She knew Jack through work, obviously.

And wasn't  _that_  puzzling? He couldn't imagine Rose with the same sort of top-secret job Jack seemed to have, but if she'd been his training officer when he'd started four years ago, that would mean that she'd started at least a few years before him. He frowned. He didn't actually know Rose's age for certain, but she must have been incredibly young for a training officer. He wondered how someone so young got involved in that sort of secrecy.

He wondered at the protective nature of all her friends. She was involved in some sort of military organization, he figured, if it was top secret, held a distinguished position – Martha had said she was on the board of directors – and was obviously more than capable at her job, and yet all her friends defended her fiercely. He wondered, not for the first time, what it was about Rose that inspired that sort of loyalty. Even he, after knowing her for only a few days, felt the need to protect her, even from herself, but he chalked that up to the fact that he was very quickly falling for the mysterious blonde.

A loud buzzing startled him out of his thoughts and he quickly picked up the offending item – a ringing mobile – so that it wouldn't wake Rose. She shifted against him, and he held his breath, but a second later she'd stilled again and he let out a breath of relief before answering the mobile. "Hello?" He greeted quietly, continuing to run his fingers through Rose's hair with his free hand.

" _Who the hell is this?"_  came a sharp voice on the other side. James blinked in surprise, pulling the mobile away to look at the caller ID. Realization hit him when he looked at the mobile in his hand and realized that it wasn't his.

"Mickey? It's James, from the coffee shop," he greeted hesitantly, hoping that Mickey's promised threats could wait.

There was a pause on the other end before Mickey spoke again.  _"Why are you answerin' Rose's mobile?"_  He asked bluntly, apparently opting not to bother with small talk.

"She's sleeping," James winced, hoping Mickey wouldn't jump to conclusions.

Another pause, followed by a loud sigh.  _"Well, she definitely needed to get some sleep, so that's alright, I suppose. Tell her to call me when she wakes up."_

"Is it important? I could wake her…" he really hoped it wasn't important.

" _No, don't do that. Let her sleep. I can talk to her later."_ James breathed a sigh of relief and was about to bid Mickey goodbye when the other man spoke again.  _"I hope you realize that I'm letting this go for now, but you and I will be having a conversation very soon."_

 _That_  sounded threatening.

"Sure," James replied, hoping he sounded calm and unbothered. Mickey hung up without another word, and James stared at the device for a few seconds before setting it back down on his night stand."

"Who s'at?" Rose mumbled against his chest.

His arm returned to her waist. "I didn't realize you were awake," he told her apologetically, keeping his voice.

"'M'not. Who s'at?" She mumbled again, her words barely discernable.

He smiled, keeping up his ministrations with her hair. "Mickey. He wants you to call him later." He informed her.

"'S'it important?" She asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"I don't think so."

She shifted comfortably against his chest and let out a loud sigh. "'Kay," she replied simply. Apparently, a half-sleeping Rose had no problem with vague answers. "Time s'it?"

He looked at the clock.  _8:29_. "8:30," he told her, grinning when she groaned loudly. "Not a morning person, I take it?" Another loud groan. "How about," he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "while you wake yourself up, I go make you a cuppa?"

She shifted against him so that her hands were one on top of the other and rested her chin on her knuckles, looking at him through bleary eyes, a tired smile on her face. "You're a right saint, you are," she told him seriously.

He chuckled and leaned forward, kissing her forehead gently before shifting away from her. She rolled onto her back to free him of her weight, and her eyes tracked him as he made his way to the door.

Finally a few feet away from her, he could take her in completely. Her hair was dishevelled and her shirt riding up slightly, exposing the soft skin of her midriff. Her sleepy eyes reminded him of thick honey, and her gaze didn't leave him for a second. The sheets hand tangled themselves around her waist when she'd turned over, and it didn't escape his mind that her current state was probably similar to one she'd be in after certain other –  _ahem_ – activities. He felt his face begin to flush red and he quickly turned away from her, slipping quickly out of the bedroom.

Jack's door was open and his bed vacant. He must have gone to work early. He ignored the remnants of coffee in the clear pot and went to filling the kettle and setting on the burner. While he waited for the water to heat up, he went into the loo to straighten out his wild hair and quickly brush his teeth to get rid of any morning breath. The loud hiss of the kettle sent him scurrying back to the kitchen, and he went to making Rose's tea.

She emerged from the bedroom just as he finished, her hair tossed into a messy bun on top of her head and the oversized clothes hanging loosely off her slight frame. Though she was more awake than a few minutes ago, there was a lingering bleariness in her gaze and her smile was languid and slow. Her face was still clean of any makeup.

He was relatively certain he'd never seen anything so adorable in his entire life.

She sat heavily at the kitchen table and he placed the cuppa in front of her, earning a tired smile. He smiled back and set to making his own cuppa.

Rose didn't speak until half her tea was gone and her eyes were clear. "What did Mickey want?"

James shrugged from his position in the seat next to her, both hands cupping his mug to warm his palms. "He didn't say." He told her, looking at her curiously. He wondered if Mickey calling her in the morning was a regular occurrence, and chided himself for pang of jealousy that passed through him. Mickey was dating Martha – he had absolutely no reason to be jealous of the other man.

Rose frowned but said nothing, taking another sip of her tea.

James took her in, getting a clearer picture now that she was more awake. There were still lines of fatigue on her beautiful face, though not nearly as pronounced as they had been yesterday, and he could tell by her expression and slouched position that she didn't particularly want to go to work. He decided to push his luck. "Do you really have to go in today?" He asked her quietly, watching her reaction carefully. "You could stay, you know. I could call into work, we could finish watching the movies…"

She gave him a tired smile. "Yeah, I really do," she told him bluntly. "I've got to get this sorted, James."

He sighed. "I tried, at least." He shrugged, and Rose smiled as she took the final sip of her tea.

Once the mug had been drained she stood from her seat and placed it in the sink, filling it with hot water to prevent staining. "Tell you what, though," she said, turning to face him. "Once it's sorted, I could take a whole day off, and we could spend the day together…you know, if you wanted."

He rose from his seat and stood across from her, a slight smile on his lips. "Yeah?"

She smiled up at him. "Yeah."

His smiled grew and he stepped closer to her, his hands going to her waist as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her mouth curl into a smile under his and her arms wrapped light around his neck. She stood on her tiptoes to improve the angle, though the kiss was kept soft and chaste. When he pulled away, his hands remained on her hips and her arms remained around his neck. "So, can this be a regular thing?" He asked cheekily, kissing her lips again briefly.

She let out a quiet laugh, meeting his eyes with her honey-warm gaze. "I would very much like if this was a regular thing," she replied, the teasing lilt he knew returning to her tone.

He grinned. "Good," he told her, "because I don't know if I'd be able to stop." He kissed her again, smiles on both their faces and her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

* * *

"Got everything?" James checked as he opened the door.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Not like I brought much over," she retorted, though humour shined in her eyes. He nodded seriously and she smiled at him, slipping her purse over her shoulder and pulling on her favourite leather gloves. She nodded to James, who reached out a hand. Her smile widened and she interlocked their fingers, liking how easily their hands fit together.

The walk to Torchwood was short, and they walked at an easy pace, their joint hands swinging casually between them as they walked, mostly in silence. The lightness that Rose had felt at James's flat was gone, and the weight of her responsibility at Torchwood began to press her again. James noticed the change but said nothing, knowing there was nothing he offer her at this point except his support.

Once they arrived at the tall building, Rose smiled up at him. "Thanks," she told him.

He smiled back at her. "Any time, sweetheart."

Rose's smile widened at the moniker, and he made a mental note to use it more often.

* * *

Rose was incredibly thankful she always had extra clothes stashed at the office in cash she pulled all-nighters. Dressed in a light pair of black trousers and a professional looking blouse and blazer combination, Rose thought she'd done rather well for herself for someone who hadn't actually been to her own flat in the past eight days. Her current shoes were fancy and black with an inch-long high heel, but her trainers were tucked under her desk.

Fancy shoes were not good in case of running. And Rose did like the running.

At the moment, Rose was sitting at her desk, frowning at the computer monitor as she scrolled through several CCTV feeds, looking for any sign of Adam Mitchell. Through use of his credit card statements, they'd tracked his usual haunts, but Adam was nothing if not clever and purposefully avoiding those places. Rose wouldn't be surprised if some of them were faked to keep them off his trail.

She jumped in surprise when someone knocked insistently on her door. "Yeah?" She called.

The door opened to reveal a breathless Jack. "We got something." He told her quickly.

She was out of her chair an instant later, following Jack at a run to the technicians' area of the office, where peoples' excitement was nearly tangible.

"We might have an IP address," one of them, a woman Rose was pretty sure was called Liz told them quickly.

"How sure are we?" Rose asked, her eyes wide and her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't want to get her hopes too far up, knowing there was absolutely a chance that Adam was fooling them. "Have we got CCTV?"

"Negative," another technician, Paul, called back. "Which actually makes it more likely to be him. He wouldn't use a public IP address."

Rose nodded decisively. "Good enough for me. Let's get a team out there."

* * *

Rose's chosen team – herself, Jack, Mickey, and tech expert named Tosh, moved with practiced efficiency.

The four split into two SUV's, Tosh and Jack in one and Mickey and Rose in the other. Jack and Rose each drove while Mickey and Tosh worked away at their computers from the passenger side. The cars were connected through Bluetooth, allowing the four of them to converse.

Mickey stole a glance at Rose, who was looking dead ahead, her expression unreadable and her lips pressed together. "We've got him, Rose," he told her quietly. She jerked her head in a sharp nod, her expression not changing.

"Five minutes," Tosh informed them over the Bluetooth.

"Right," Rose said decisively. "Coms in," everyone quickly put their silver Bluetooth-like devices into their ears, checking them to make sure all of them were working correctly. "Good. Let's remember who we're dealing with, guys. Adam Mitchell has Torchwood training, but he wasn't with us long enough to become particularly proficient in anything except his computer skills. Let's surround him quietly – I don't want him sneaking out any exists we miss, and I don't want him to hear us coming. Let's do this one. If we mess this up, I'll have to live at the office again, and I'm pretty sure the director will kill me himself before letting me do that again, and I definitely want to be part of the team that catches the snake." They all chuckled as the car pulled to a stop. "Tosh, you've got those stupid surveillance cameras hacked?"

"I've got them on a loop. We maybe have five minutes before he realized something's up, so let's do this quickly," Tosh told them.

Rose's heart pounded furiously in her chest as they crept around the house Adam was using. As predicted, and quite luckily for them, Adam was so focused on whatever he was doing on the monitor that he didn't notice the team sneak in past what he thought were hidden cameras. Rose peered into the room where they'd detected life sighs and saw the back of Adam's head, heavy-duty headphones on (which Rose privately thought was a big mistake, but she wouldn't fault him for making her job easier) and his back hunched as he quickly typed away on the screen. She nodded to her team – Mickey at her back, Tosh and Jack in the other doorway, and they crept into the room silently. All four of them had their guns at the ready as they soundless moved in on their unsuspecting target.

Tosh and Mickey remained in the doorways, eyes darting expertly around the room and guns at the ready while Rose and Jack snuck up behind Adam.

Jack pressed the barrel of his gun against Adam's temple, and Rose felt an grim satisfaction in her core when the idiot jumped and looked between them with wide eyes. He immediately looked for his exits, panicking slightly when he saw his only ways out blocked by Tosh and Mickey. Knowing he was beaten – Adam was technically savvy, but there was little he could do against four expertly trained Torchwood agents, especially with four guns trained on him, Adam held up his hands, panic and anger marring his otherwise attractive face. Jack, his face grim, made quick work of handcuffing Adam and nearly lifting him out of his seat, leading him towards the vehicle with Mickey at his back in case Adam somehow managed to try anything. Their task was to get Adam to Torchwood as quickly as possible so that he could be locked up safely to await his military tribunal.

Once they were out of the room, Rose nodded to Tosh, who quickly made her way to Adam's spot and sat down, her fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced eased. Rose waited tensely behind her, gun still at the ready and posture tense.

A few minutes later – though it felt like hours to Rose – Tosh spoke. "Got it," she said triumphantly.

"You've got it?" Rose whispered, hope coursing through her at Tosh's two words.

Tosh retrieved the USB key from the computer and held it out to Rose triumphantly. "It's done, Rose." Tosh assured her. "The information is secure and we've got Adam."

Relief washed over Rose and she let out a slightly hysterical laugh, wrapping Tosh in a tight hug when the woman finally stood up. Tosh grinned widely at her as Rose took the key and tucked it safely inside her pocket.

The drive back – Rose and Tosh in their own SUV this time – was uneventful and quiet. They had both been amongst the Torchwood members who'd barely gotten any rest over the past week, and they revelled in the feeling of success.

As soon as they arrived back at Torchwood, Rose informed Director Pete Tyler that she would be taking the next day off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They've got Adam! Woo! I don't think we'll be seeing too much more of Adam - Rose can only handle so much stress, after all!


End file.
